


Inheritance

by bifmonzo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 181,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24807286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bifmonzo/pseuds/bifmonzo
Summary: Draco is an Auror. Hermione is just trying to do her job. Neither of them are prepared for what happens after she wakes up hungover in his bed. And someone, but there's really no telling who, has a secret that threatens their magical reality. Dramione with supporting cast of familiar faces (plus a dash of Viking nonsense), nine years post-war. COMPLETE.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 354
Kudos: 618





	1. A Beginning and an End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **summary** : Draco is an Auror. Hermione is just trying to do her job. Neither of them are prepared for what happens after she wakes up hungover in his bed. And someone, but there's really not telling who, has a secret that threatens their magical reality. Dramione with supporting cast of familiar faces (+ a dash of Viking nonsense), nine years post-war.
> 
> Full disclosure for those who love a good slow burn - this ain't it. The story is less about how Draco and Hermione end up together and more about what happens after they do.
> 
>  **disclaimer** : I obviously own nothing. It's J.K. Rowling's world, we're just making it our own.
> 
>  **a/n** : I started working on this as a fun distraction while finishing my PhD, and then COVID19 happened, and the story grew into something much larger (and longer) than I anticipated. I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  **cw** : There are references violence and abuse in this story, so if that's not your thing, it's probably best to move along. Oh, and lemons. There are lots of lemons.
> 
> * * *
> 
> A little music to get you in the mood…
> 
> Songs - lovely by Billie Eilish and Khalid, Say Something by A Great Big World, and Skinny Love by Bon Iver

_June 5, 1998_

It took Draco Malfoy exactly 13 hours to disappear after the Battle of Hogwarts. Words had always been his most powerful weapon, but after everything, after all of the things that he'd done, they seemed completely and utterly useless. And so, he did something he'd never done before; he held his tongue. He left without uttering a single word, without sending a single letter. He left without saying goodbye to his mother, whom he'd always just wanted to protect, or his father, whom he desperately wanted to blame for everything that had gone wrong in his short, pitiful life. With absolutely no intention of ever returning, he left everything he had ever known.

Leaving Britain had been the obvious choice. The Malfoy name and signature platinum hair certainly weren't going to open many doors for him there, but his decision to hide himself away in the Muggle world would have surprised even the all knowing Dumbledore. It was, Draco thought, a foolproof escape. When he left, he took only his wand (although he doubted he would find much use for it where he was going) and the money he needed to purchase a one-way airline ticket to a place far, far away. While traveling the muggle way wasn't exactly his idea of fun, it was the only way he could ensure he wasn't traced by the Ministry, and he definitely had no desire to be found by anyone. Ever.

Airplanes, he found, weren't totally without their merits. Magical methods of international travel were fast, and definitely efficient, but traveling by Apparition, the Floo Network, or a Portkey left very little time for observation. During his escape, Draco sat with his face pressed against the window, transfixed by the images passing by below him as he tried to digest what had happened to him over the past few years, trying to imagine a life in which he actually did all the right things. Despite the obvious fact that he was sitting inside a stuffy, oversized aluminum can surrounded by strangers - all muggle, no less - the view from the plane reminded him of being on a broom, and he found himself oddly reassured about his decision to leave his former life behind.

Buses, on the other hand, Draco could do without. They were loud and uninviting, and, in the particular instance when he decided to keep traveling north after landing in a place muggles ridiculously referred to as the "Windy City", were filled with seats that smelled horribly of rotten cheese. His obvious discomfort with the situation didn't stop people from talking to him, and they certainly did love talking to him even despite his less than friendly demeanor. A young woman, dressed in flannel and denim, nearly fell out of her seat giggling when, after nearly an hour of trying to get his attention, he engaged her in polite conversation. An old man wearing a faded yellow and green baseball cap kept asking him if he was lost after taking a seat behind him. Even the bus driver, who seemed to drag out many of his vowels far longer than was necessary, took no issue with telling him, a complete stranger with his own strange accent, about his family history. It was more friendly chit-chat than he had ever had to bear, and he was relieved when the bus finally came to a stop outside a run-down gas station in an even more run-down little town. He had only hopped off to use the loo, but when he saw the collection of job advertisements taped haphazardly up to the wall, he made another surprising decision.

 _This will do_ , he had thought as he watched the bus drive away, one of the flyers clutched tightly in his hand.

And so that was how Draco Malfoy, heir to an immense family fortune who had never done an hour of manual labor in his entire life, found himself on a small farm in Wisconsin hauling a large bucket of feed to a group of annoyingly loud chickens. He wasn't sure what the old couple had seen in him when he answered their ad for seasonal farm-work, perhaps the look of desperation, but they had welcomed him into their home like he was one of their own. They put him up in a spare bedroom, provided him with clothes that were better suited for a hard day's work, and fed him an enormously large meal of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. It was kindness that he had never experienced before. Kindness, he thought, that he of all people didn't really deserve.

The farm work was grueling and unrelenting, and it distracted his weary mind. There wasn't much time for idle thoughts, especially those pertaining to the world he had left far behind, and for that he was thankful. Animals needed to be corralled and fed. Soil needed to be moved. Seeds needed to be planted. Fences needed to be repaired. Each night, when he might have otherwise turned to alcohol and potions to drown away his memories of the war, he quickly fell into a deep sleep, his tired body barely capable of making it to the bed.

He did all of his work without magic, without a single complaint, and he quickly lost the urge to carry a wand with him everywhere he went. It was better that way, he had told himself. And he was right. It was the only way he was ever going to unlearn everything he had ever been taught.

In the month that had passed since he arrived on the farm, he already felt more at peace feeding chickens and planting vegetables than he ever did being doted on in Malfoy Manor. It was odd, feeling like he belonged somewhere so drastically different from the place in which he was made, but it was also extremely comforting. He had spent much of his life making all the wrong choices, that much had been obvious when he had fled his former life to hide on another continent, but without the farm he never would have realized that he was truly capable of change. Perhaps one day, he could finally face the emotional scars that haunted him and accept that some things, no matter how much he wanted to blame himself, were never really under his control. And maybe, just maybe, he could learn to forgive himself for the unforgivable things he did trying to defend what he had always been taught was right.

Draco really wasn't sure forgiveness would ever be an option for him, and even if it was, he wasn't sure how long it would take, but working on a muggle farm without magic in a place he had never heard of before seemed like a pretty goddamn good place to start.

* * *

_October 2, 2002_

It was done.

Hermione sat at the end of her bed staring towards the door she knew wouldn't reopen. It was the logical thing to do, she knew that, but her heart still felt like it was breaking into a million tiny pieces.

In the beginning, things had been perfect – well, as perfect as anything could be in a post-war world. They grieved together over the loss of their friends and family and comforted each other when the nightmares brought on by the carnage they had endured became too much. He was completely devoted to her, and she was to him. They loved each other more than either of them ever thought was possible. It was the kind of love that people wrote about – the Daily Prophet certainly did – the kind of love that made people believe. They were inseparable, not even work could keep them apart, often sneaking away to capture a few moments alone or to rip each other's clothing off in an abandoned room. His family became hers, and they talked about starting one of their own, spending countless nights imagining their future and playfully arguing over baby names. They were Wizarding Britain's favorite couple, the so-called perfect match, and nothing mattered more than making each other happy.

But slowly things changed.

At first, she thought he was just enjoying himself a little too much. He was still coming home every night and making it out of bed in the morning. He still loved her more than anything. They still visited his family and had fun with their friends, and so she let it slide. But then, he started going out more and more, and it became obvious that he was trying to drink away more than just a hard day's work. He began to isolate himself and started missing important meetings and deadlines. There were nights when he never came home, and when he was home, he was a ghost of the man she'd fallen in love with.

Eventually, he only touched her when he wanted something, usually a shag. He yelled. He called her names. He laughed at her when she cried. He started locking himself in their bedroom refusing to come out for anything, not even for her. But she kept making excuses for him because she loved him, and she couldn't give up. She told their friends he was exhausted. She lied to his family. She promised everyone he was fine and that he just needed some time to relax. She covered for him even when he was so horrible to her, even when he told her that he didn't want her around. Despite everything he did to her as he slowly spiraled out of control, she stayed. For him. For them. For everything they had built together.

She begged him to get help. She told him that he had people who cared about him, people who would always be there to support him. And at first he would always agree, promising her he'd do anything to get better, but then he'd disappear and return in a drunken stupor. _I don't need help_ , he would yell at her, and the cycle would start all over again.

When they had last had the discussion, she thought for a second that he had finally heard her, that he was finally listening. There had been a flicker of understanding and sadness in his eyes that she hadn't seen for years, but it was quickly replaced with rage. In a moment of anger, he took her roughly by the shoulders and threw her against the wall, his eyes filled with hatred that made her bones tremble. He raised his arm as if he meant to hit her, as if he wanted nothing more but to cause her pain, but backed away suddenly shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of a bad dream. She crumbled to the ground, looking up at him with tears in her eyes, and waited for an apology that never came. Instead, he looked down at her with disgust, his eyes dark and emotionless while he slurred his words and mumbled that this was her fault. That she shouldn't have brought it up again. That she was being too pushy. Too stubborn. When she wiped the tears from her eyes and looked back up at him, she saw that the man she loved was gone. She knew in that moment that it was over. There was nothing more she could do for _him_. There was nothing more she could do for _them_.

_I deserve better._

She put on a brave face at work and with friends, but on the inside she was falling apart. He had turned into someone she no longer recognized. The man who loved her, who protected her, and cared for her had disappeared. His addiction had destroyed him. It had destroyed everything they had dreamed about after the war. Hermione could fix a lot of things, but she couldn't fix this. She couldn't fix them.

_I deserve better._

She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. Her eyes were bloodshot and tears were still running down her cheeks. He hadn't looked at her when she told him it was over. He didn't beg her to reconsider. He didn't promise that he would do anything and everything to make her happy again, to get better. After everything they had been through, after everything she had done for him, he simply stood up and walked out of their flat without uttering a single word.

_I deserve better._

Hermione had repeated it to herself for weeks as she worked up the courage to finally end things with Ron. And now that she had finally done it, she realized that she was completely and utterly alone.

* * *

_October 15, 2002_

Draco was sitting on a bench outside of a closed door fidgeting with his hands. He didn't particularly want to be here, but then again, Potter had been absolutely relentless and so here he was, sitting on a stupid little bench in the Ministry of Magic which he had sworn he'd never set foot in again. Leave it to the insufferable Chosen One to ruin a man's only chance for a little damn peace and quiet.

A Green Bay Packers hat, a parting gift from the sweet old couple in Wisconsin, covered most of his platinum hair, while the rest of his body was covered in worn, very un-Malfoy-like, muggle clothing, but his wardrobe fooled no one. People walking by still stared, their wide eyes saying it all. _Draco Malfoy was alive, and he was back in Britain._

Draco was busy hiding his face from a group of young Ministry workers when the door next to him opened. Harry walked out brushing his fingers through his disheveled hair, followed by the Minister, whose lips were twisted into a strange, almost uncomfortable smile.

"Welcome to the team!" Harry announced, a wide grin plastered on his face.

Draco blinked, looking between the two men standing above him. _Well, this is a little fucking unexpected_ , he thought, realizing he had no idea what to say.

"I can't say I wasn't hesitant to allow your appointment, but Harry assured me that he'd keep an eye on you," Kingsley explained, filling the awkward silence. "Apologies for the rather… unpleasant searching of your memories. Even with Voldemort gone, we really can't be too careful."

Draco simply nodded. Unpleasant wasn't exactly the word he'd use to describe what the Aurors had done to him when he'd first arrived earlier that day, but he wasn't really in a position to complain. Other than his memories, there was no real alibi for his disappearance, and knowing full well he wouldn't have been allowed to leave until they finished their inquiry, he had quietly let their so-called Legilimency 'expert' dig around in his memories like a rabid animal.

"Thank you, sir," Draco managed to croak as he stood up to shake Kingsley's outstretched hand.

"Whatever this new look is," Kingsley said, gesturing to the hat on top of Draco's head, "I like it."

A laugh escaped Harry's throat as Draco continued to stand there dumbfounded.

The Minister smiled again before being ushered away by his aide, no doubt to solve some minor Ministry disaster, leaving Draco and Harry alone in the hallway.

"Told you," Harry said chuckling, his lips spread into a wide, toothy grin. "I'm very convincing."

"Why is that not surprising?" Draco retorted with snort as he watched the Minister disappear around the corner at the end of the hall.

It was Harry who had asked Draco to come back home and become an Auror. Well, demanded with stalker tendencies was probably the better descriptor for what Harry did, but ask him he did, over and over again. He sent owls, he sent his Patronus, and on one particularly horrible occasion, he even telephoned the dodgy restaurant Draco had been snooping around in. It was enough to make Draco wish he had never run into those blithering, Death Eater wannabe idiots in that disgusting, down-trodden pub, but alas he did and it was far too late to change what happened after. He had earned Harry's trust, and there was simply no recovering from that.

The story went like this: Two years after the war, Draco appeared suddenly on Harry's doorstep levitating two bound men behind him.

"Potter," Draco said quickly after nearly kicking down the front door.

"Malfoy. To what do I owe this… pleasure?" Harry replied uncomfortably, readjusting the glasses on his nose.

No one had seen or heard from Draco since the Battle of Hogwarts, and his unannounced arrival wasn't exactly the relaxing night Harry had been hoping for. He certainly wasn't looking forward to what he assumed would follow.

"I believe the Ministry is looking for these two," Draco said, stepping aside to reveal the men floating behind him. "Something about blowing up a few muggle villages in Scotland. I thought you might want them."

Harry's mouth fell open.

"You- um, what?" Harry muttered, looking back and forth between Draco and the two disheveled men.

Harry recognized them immediately. They had managed to escape every trap the Aurors had set for them. The whole affair had been horribly embarrassing for the Ministry, but the truth was they were under-staffed and overworked. Catching criminals was hard enough on a full night's rest, something none of the Aurors had gotten since the end of the war, and the fact that two wanted men had escaped under the eyes of the Ministry wasn't really all that surprising.

"I ran into them in a pub," Draco offered, shrugging as if it explained everything.

It didn't.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words. _How in the bloody hell did he catch them_?

"By all means Potter, keep gawking while I stand on your doorstep restraining two of the Ministry's most wanted men."

The words and tone may have been reminiscent of the old Draco, but Harry could see his heart really wasn't in it. Something was different. Something had changed.

And that was really all it took.

They didn't speak much after Draco handed the men over, only enough for Draco to say that Harry needed to take the credit because he wanted to go back to being lost. _Things to do,_ Draco had mumbled as he walked back out of the front door.

As he watched him Disapparate back to whatever place he had come from, Harry decided that Draco was exactly the type of Auror the Ministry needed. He sent the first owl the next morning, and didn't stop reaching out until Draco showed up at his front door two years later shouting about nearly being killed after Harry had blown his cover in the middle of a meeting of murderous mobsters in Rome.

Harry looked far too pleased with the outcome of his meeting with the Minister, but Draco wasn't quite ready to thank him for pulling him out of his self imposed isolation.

"Does this mean I have to forgive you for Italy?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Oh please, you were bored," Harry replied, waving a hand nonchalantly in the air. "I did you a favor."

A favor indeed. Not only was Draco Malfoy alive, but also it appeared he had just made friends with the bloody Chosen One.

* * *

_April 15, 2004_

Hermione glanced down at her empty teacup and sighed. Despite the ache she felt in the back of her neck from bending over the pile of papers on the small table in front of her and despite the fact that her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, she knew she wouldn't be able to relax until the report was finished. She would have happily stayed in her comfortable and private office – Merlin knows she didn't need anything or anyone to distract her – but Harry would have had a fit if he caught her working into the weekend again, and so, she had packed her things up and settled into the small, busy cafe near her flat.

She brushed the curls that had escaped from her bun behind her ear and motioned for the waitress to bring her another cup of tea, pausing to take in the activity around her. It was 7 pm on a Friday, and most people in the cafe were grabbing a quick bite to eat before heading out for the night. While she normally preferred to work in silence, the hum of the people around her was strangely soothing, as if it were a perfectly toned white noise constructed to keep her thoughts from wandering.

It certainly wasn't abnormal for Hermione to be working late on a Friday night. Sure, she was friendly enough with the people who surrounded her on a daily basis, and yes, she did occasionally accept an odd invitation out, but she was mostly content to keep to herself when she wasn't at the Ministry. She had Harry and Ginny of course, but she was seeing less and less of them now that they were parents. Occasionally, she would meet up with Neville and Luna, but they often were too busy with their own lives at Hogwarts. She was alone most of the time, preferring solitude to the pain that, in her limited experience, inevitably followed becoming emotionally involved with someone else.

Generally speaking, her loneliness didn't bother her, but sometimes it became so overwhelming that she felt like she could drown in it, barely capable of keeping herself afloat. It was only when she was most vulnerable, most overcome with her solitude, that she searched for comfort in the arms of one of her many male admirers. She would use them as she needed, some longer than others, but they were never more than a temporary distraction. She had given up on love, or at least that's what she told herself, convincing herself that she had used up her one and only chance.

The waitress glided by with another warm cup of tea, and Hermione inhaled the sweet steam before returning her attention to the large pile of papers in front of her. On this specific Friday night, she wasn't feeling particularly alone. She wasn't worried about spiraling into a dark place. She didn't jump when she heard the bell on the front door clang as two bodies moved into the cafe. But when she heard _his_ voice, a wave of panic washed over her, dragging her back to the trench of loneliness she thought she had left behind a long time ago. From where she was perched, she could see he was with a woman – an unbelievably beautiful woman, with silky blonde hair and long legs, which didn't help – and she nearly forgot to breathe. Her mouth went dry, and she quickly hid her face behind her papers, hoping he wouldn't see her. This used to be their neighborhood. They used to share a flat a few blocks away. It stung to see him introducing it to someone else, someone so clearly different from her, and she shifted awkwardly in her seat wishing she could just disappear.

_I deserve better._

She repeated her old mantra as she sat there peeking around her papers, watching them from afar. She heard Ron order some chips before whispering in the woman's ear. The woman started giggling, and he pulled something out of his pocket. A flask. He shared it with his companion and then took a long pull himself before stashing it away somewhere along the inside of his coat. They kissed, the kind of kiss he used to reserve for _her_ , and then moved to a table on the other side of the cafe. She continued to watch even when she saw him plant a kiss on the woman's neck, even when the woman wrapped her body around him. It was too much, too painful to see, but she couldn't look away.

_I deserve better._

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she saw a flash of bright red hair head for the door and she inhaled deeply as she heard the door shut behind the couple. She lingered in the cafe for a few minutes longer, making sure to give them ample time to walk away, before packing her things up, paying the bill, and walking out into the chilly night.

_I deserve better._

Hermione quickly made her way home, lost in a torrent of self deprecating thoughts. She barely paid attention to the walk, and she didn't even notice she had made it into her building until she was standing at her front door. She pushed the door open and threw her things down, her heart pounding and her brow glistening with sweat. Her eyes closed for a moment as she willed herself to calm down, trying desperately to forget what she had just seen. But when she opened her eyes again, she looked around at her dark empty flat and her body began to shake as a debilitating wave of loneliness came crashing down over her.

 _Alone,_ she thought as a tear escaped down her cheek. _Still fucking alone._

* * *

_June 20, 2005_

Draco ducked as a large book came flying at his head.

"What is your problem?" Draco shouted before another book came flying, just missing the side of his face.

"My problem!?" Astoria yelled, her hands tightly gripping another heavy leather bound book that she had ripped off the book shelf behind her. "My problem is you!"

Draco grimaced as he heard his favorite copy of Lord of the Rings slam against the wall behind him. _That one's signed_ , he mumbled to himself.

Astoria was angry, that much was obvious, but her outrage had appeared out of thin air. It was as if she had been waiting for something, anything, to release the anger that had been building up inside her. Apparently, coming home from dinner and finding Draco reading by the window had been exactly the something she had been waiting for.

"You waste your days reading these," Astoria continued, gesturing to the wall of books behind her. "And you continually refuse to join me and my parents for dinner. I'm sick of having to make excuses for you. You haven't even seen your own parents in months."

She wasn't entirely wrong. Draco had declined to go out to dinner with her parents the past two nights and hadn't been to Malfoy Manor since they started dating, but what she failed to see was that Draco didn't go out to see anyone anymore. He wasn't the least bit interested in rejoining high wizarding society, especially after it had failed him so miserably once before, and he wasn't about to change his mind just to appease her social calendar.

"Astoria-" a book slammed into his chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs and the words out of his mouth.

She looked like she wanted to cry, her dark hair falling over her face, but Draco knew she would never show that kind of weakness in front of him. Vulnerability had never played a role in their short and sometimes volatile relationship, and he didn't really expect it to start now.

"Bloody hell, Astoria," he stammered, picking up the book closest to his feet. "I told you I wanted no part in my old lifestyle. I didn't come back to Britain to make the same mistakes I did when I was younger."

"Oh, so I'm a mistake," Astoria accused.

"You know that's not what I said," Draco retorted, his voice more serious.

It was the same argument they always had. She wanted him to go out. He wanted to stay in. They had been brought together by a chance meeting outside of the Ministry, much to both of their parents' delight, but neither of them had learned to understand each other. While the sex had been good, it was really the only thing still holding them together, and it obviously wasn't enough anymore.

"This isn't working," Astoria said quietly.

"Clearly," Draco replied coolly, glaring at the books that were strewn around him on the floor.

"I'm leaving you," Astoria declared simply, her hands brushing the skirt of her dress.

He knew it was coming, it had been for a while, and so he didn't flinch as the words left her mouth. "I know," he answered, his eyes flickering back to her face.

There weren't any tears. Honestly, there was nothing really to be sad about and they both knew it. Whatever sadness Astoria might feel when she made it home, whatever tears she might eventually cry, would no doubt be the result of losing her perfect-on-paper match, her story-book ending. He knew she would never really be sad about losing him because he was never much of a catch to begin with. She would find someone better, they always did.

Draco watched as Astoria collected her things and stormed out of his flat for the last time feeling the same way he always felt: alone, and deservedly so.

* * *

_Present day: September 14, 2007_

Hermione clutched the crumpled piece of paper in her hands as she held back tears building in her eyes. It had been five years since she ended things with Ron, and she felt like she had moved on with her life, but she definitely hadn't been expecting this.

_Ms. Pansy Parkinson and Mr. Ronald Weasley cordially invite you…_

She hadn't been able to read past the first line.

"Hermione?"

Harry stared at her from across the table, his eyes filled with concern. He wanted to be the one to tell her. She deserved to know before she was surprised with the news. She especially deserved to know before the damned reporters flocked to her, hoping to open up an old wound for front page news.

"Hermione, are you okay?" he asked again.

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes blinking furiously. He was a good friend. After she ended things with Ron, he sat with her while she sobbed, confessing to him everything that had happened. Harry had been horrified when she told him and was so angry with himself for not realizing how bad things had gotten, but she never blamed him. She had gone through extensive lengths to hide Ron's behavior, and so if anything it was her own fault for being too stubborn to ask for help. After all these years, she was happy to still have Harry in her life, and she was forever thankful that he chose to remain friends with her despite the stress it put on his own relationship with Ron.

"Oh… yes. I'm alright. I didn't realize- I didn't realize they were so serious," she stammered, her hands shaking slightly.

Harry squeezed her hand as she handed the crumpled invitation back to him.

"It's okay not to be, you know," Harry added as he quickly slipped the paper back in his pocket.

"It's been a long time, Harry," she said quietly, casting her eyes away from him. "It doesn't bother me like it used to. I'm just surprised, that's all."

Truthfully, Hermione wasn't sure if she really was okay, but she'd rather not unravel in front of Harry. He'd done enough to support her through her separation with Ron, and she didn't want to burden him anymore.

"You're taking this a lot better than Ginny," Harry offered, attempting to cheer her up. "She nearly lit the house on fire when we got the invitation."

Hermione forced out a small smile. When Harry told Ginny everything that had happened, he apparently had to hold her back from flying to the Burrow to throw every curse she knew at Ron. Ginny barely spoke to Ron outside of family gatherings for a year, and it had nearly broken Molly Weasley's heart. While she was back on relatively cordial terms with Ron, Ginny was still adamant that her brother was a _bloody idiot_ and constantly told Hermione that losing her was the biggest mistake he'd ever make in his _pathetic little life_. Hermione deeply appreciated Ginny's support, but as with Harry, she hated that it affected her relationship with Ron.

"Are you sure you're okay? Just because it's been a long time doesn't mean..." Harry let the words trail off. He knew deep down that she still cared for Ron, but he didn't want to make things worse.

"Harry, I'm fine. I promise," she lied, hoping he wouldn't catch the tremble in her voice.

She knew it was silly to think she could hide anything from him – he knew her better than anyone – but that didn't stop her from trying. She didn't want to talk about this anymore and was thankful when he caught on and quickly changed the subject.

"James and Albus have been absolute terrors the past few weeks," Harry told her. "I didn't think it was possible for anyone to be more stubborn than Ginny, but they certainly are giving her a run for her money," he paused, shaking his head, and laughed. "I swear, they are becoming more and more like her everyday."

Hermione, always happy to hear about her two favorite troublemakers, chuckled. She loved those boys. They looked so much like their father, wiry and dark-haired, but their personalities were all Ginny, headstrong beyond belief. When the boys were finally old enough, Hogwarts wouldn't know what had hit them.

"Ginny and the boys miss you," Harry continued as he turned the tea cup around on the table in front of him.

"I miss them too. Tell them I'm sorry I've been so busy," she replied guiltily, realizing that she really needed to be better about visiting. "How's Ginny doing?" she asked after swallowing her last gulp of tea. "I can't imagine chasing after those two with another one the way." She hoped the boys, Harry included, weren't making it too difficult on her.

"I think this pregnancy has been easier on her than the first two," Harry explained with a smile. "She hasn't hexed me yet," he added with raised eyebrows.

"There's still plenty of time for that," Hermione replied, laughing.

When Ginny was pregnant with James, she had used the bat-bogey hex on Harry after she had spent a particularly long morning regurgitating everything she had eaten the previous night. And then during her pregnancy with Albus, Harry had been subjected to more than one angry cast of the leg-locking curse. It was a wonder Harry had made it this far this time.

"Guess I better watch my back," Harry replied before finishing his own cup of tea.

Hermione was happy for them. Their family was growing, and she was appreciative they still included her despite how things had ended with Ron. Her parents still couldn't remember her (not that she hadn't tried many times to reverse that), so they really were the only family she had left.

"Kingsley told me about the attack on the young muggle boy," Hermione said suddenly after noticing the time. "You're probably desperately needed back in the office." She was sure Harry had a lot of work to do. He was Head Auror now, in charge of running an entire team of talented (and often exceedingly opinionated) individuals, and his responsibilities had tripled since taking on the role.

Harry nodded. It had been over nine years since the Battle of Hogwarts, since they had defeated Voldemort, and while the Ministry had been operating under relatively peaceful conditions, both he and Hermione knew the calm could only last if they continued fighting the dark. Their new lives didn't involve horcrux hunting or bloody battles, but there were still Death Eaters and new dark witches and wizards to find and bring to justice, and it appeared they finally had a lead on one of the worst.

"Yes," he admitted solemnly, "it appears to be our first solid lead on Rodolphus in nearly seven years." He paused, rubbing his temples with his thumb and middle finger. It had been a long couple of days. "I should probably head back before he sends Dennis out looking for me."

Hermione nodded, pushing herself out of her chair, while Harry threw some money on the table.

They walked in silence, taking in the busy street as they walked quickly back to the Ministry, pausing to say hello to the guard at the main entrance before heading further inside. Once they exited the lifts on the second level, Harry gave Hermione a hug before heading to his office, glancing back over his shoulders as she walked away. He knew she wasn't one hundred percent okay, that much had been clear from her reaction to the news, but he hoped that once the surprise wore off she would be.

Hermione walked to her office slowly, finally allowing herself to think about the unlikely engagement. She hadn't spoken to Ron since she ended things. She had seen him a handful of times (hidden from him when necessary), and each time she couldn't help but wonder if he had gotten better, if things could go back to the way they had been before. But every time she thought she might muster up the courage to say hello, she would notice the drink in his hand or the woman under his arms and it would stop her in her tracks.

_I deserve better._

She knew he had dated other people after her, and she certainly hadn't lived a life of chastity either. However, something about the finality of that chapter of her life brought her back to an emotional plane she thought she had left a long time ago.

Ron was getting married. And she wasn't the bride.


	2. The Hangover Cure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **a/n** : A lemon really could be waiting around any corner, so... gird your loins.
> 
> Thank you to LexieSong for catching my terrible geography error!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Songs - Go Fuck Yourself by Two Feet, Lost In My Mind by RUFUS DU SOL, and bad idea by Ariana Grande

Hermione opened her eyes slowly. A groan escaped her lips as she moved a hand to her forehead, pressing her fingers into her temples as if they were capable of easing the pounding in her head. She could hear the hum of people and traffic outside, but her eyes were having trouble focusing, the room around her spinning slightly as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. She didn't recognize the blankets thrown over her body nor the faint scent of pine they gave off, which meant she wasn't home. Her eyes slowly scanned the room around her, but except for a pair of worn, black quidditch robes hanging on the wall, there was little in the way of decoration. Everything in the room appeared to have been selected for function: the lamps weren't ornate, the wardrobe and bedside tables were plain and white, and the bedding she was buried under was a simple, soft grey. There was, frustratingly, nothing she could use to decipher where she was.

She rolled onto her side and pushed herself upright, but it was too much, too fast. A wave of nausea hit her, her insides twisting uncomfortably, and she grabbed her mouth in an attempt to keep from regurgitating her insides across the bed in front of her.

"If you're going to vomit again Granger," began a deep voice from the other side of the room, "please make some attempt to do it in the bathroom. I don't think I'll ever be able to use this bed again after what you did to it last night."

Hermione jumped and turned her head towards the voice. It belonged to a familiar pale face.

_Fuck._

Of all the stupid things she could have done last night, why did she have to end up in _his_ bed. She could have gone home with anyone. She could have gone home alone. Why him?

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"Malfoy! I- um- did- did we-?" she squeaked, unable to finish her question.

Draco cocked his head with amusement. Other than Harry (the man just wouldn't leave him alone), he didn't normally mingle with people from his former life. If he was being totally honest, he didn't normally socialize with anyone outside of work or Quidditch these days, but when he saw Hermione inebriated and dangerously close to walking into a busy road alone late last night, he had rolled his eyes and ran after her.

"Don't worry, I didn't violate you." Draco told her, gesturing toward the couch that he had slept on in the living room. "I found you stumbling around confused last night and thought you might need a place to crash."

He almost laughed at his own word choice. _Confused_ may not have been the right word, but it certainly felt more delicate than _drunk and out of your mind_.

"Oh. Yes. Good." Hermione muttered as she looked down at her hands. She noted that other than her shoes, she was still fully clothed. "Thank you," she added without looking at him.

Hermione continued to stare awkwardly at her hands. She was too embarrassed to look up at his face, and she cringed when she noticed the large stain, no doubt from her previously regurgitated insides, next to her on the bed. This wasn't like her. Last night wasn't like her. She knew what too much alcohol did to a person, especially when they were upset, and she should have never walked into that pub.

Draco studied her quietly. She had been a mess when he found her the previous night, her eyes pained and sad, and while she was normally so well spoken, a know-it-all with a penchant for endless chatter, she had barely been able to form a sentence. She was stumbling around and mumbling something under her breath, and he could smell the alcohol on her before he grabbed her and pulled her away from the road. She started giggling uncontrollably when she saw him, and continued even more loudly when he had asked if she was alright. It had been late, but he could see a few people starting to point and whisper so he made the quick decision to bring her back to his place. After Apparating them to his flat, he led her gently into his room where she immediately passed out under the blankets on his bed. He spent a sleepless night on the couch, wondering if he should owl someone, Harry maybe, but when he remembered the sadness in her eyes, he decided she probably preferred no one ever knew. She probably preferred that Draco didn't know either, but it was too late for that.

It was a few moments before he spoke again. "I assume you heard the news?"

Hermione swallowed heavily. _Of course he knew about the engagement_ , she thought. She didn't want to talk about it, certainly not while she felt like this and certainly not with him, but she betrayed herself and nodded.

"Harry told me last week," she mumbled.

When Draco first saw the invitation he thought it was a joke.

_Pansy and Weasley? How the bloody hell did that happen? How does that even work?_

Draco knew Ron and Hermione hadn't been together for years, but he could see the torment in her eyes at his mention of the engagement. He saw it all over her face last night. Perhaps that's why he brought her to his place instead of taking her home (not that she would have been able to tell him where to go even if he'd asked). The Daily Prophet had printed the news of the engagement early yesterday afternoon, and by the time Draco had found Hermione, he had no doubt that groups of eager reporters were camped outside her flat hoping for the chance to photograph a war heroine breaking down. Luckily for her, absolutely no one would ever think to look for her here.

"Is that the reason for all of… this?" Draco gestured at her current state, hungover in his bed. He was still trying to be delicate, but he was running out of ways to dance around the subject.

"I- um- it's really none of your business," she said, raising her voice slightly. She cringed as she heard the words leave her mouth. Despite their history, he had, for some reason, saved her from a likely disaster, and she knew that she should probably be nicer to him. "Sorry," she added quickly, daring to look up at him. "I'm just tired."

Draco's glare was piercing. He was looking at her with pity; it was the same look Harry had been giving her all week, and it was making her uncomfortable.

"Don't look at me like that," she tried to tell him. "I'm fine! I just-"

Draco put his hands up in the air and turned to move out of the room. "If you say so, Granger."

Hermione let out a low growl and opened her mouth to reply, but the nausea was back. She clamped her hands over her mouth, jumped out of the bed, and followed Draco's outstretched arm to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her and threw her head over the toilet, gagging as the acid churned dangerously in her stomach, but nothing came up. Evidently there was nothing left for her to throw up after emptying her stomach all over the bed sometime last night. Disgusted, she sat there dry-heaving, swearing to herself under her breath and trying to think of a way she could make Draco forget that she had ever been here.

 _Pull it together_ , she told herself.

When her stomach finally settled, her thoughts drifted back to Ron. She sat back on her knees and took a deep breath, her head still pounding furiously against her skull.

_I deserve better._

Her brain was foggy and slow from all of the alcohol she had consumed, and she began to panic as she struggled to evaluate her situation logically. She didn't want to think about Ron. She definitely didn't want to be thinking about him here. She wanted to pretend like none of this had happened. Trying to stop the tears she knew were coming, she took a few deep breaths, but she couldn't keep them in any longer, and every tear that she had held back since Harry told her about Ron's engagement suddenly came pouring out.

_I deserve better._

She tried to calm herself, but her heart was already racing uncontrollably. Why did she care so much? Why was she letting this get to her? All of her pent up anxiety and pain flooded her veins and slowly took control of her body, crushing the breath out of her and forcing every horrible thing she had ever thought about herself to the front of her brain. And before she could do anything about it, she was gasping for air, her wand forgotten on the cold, tiled floor below her and her hands grasping widely at her throat. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get her lungs to move. Her vision narrowed, and she fell back towards the wall unable to move her limbs to catch herself. Her head met the wall with a loud crack, the pain she should have been feeling overpowered by the panic she felt quickly consuming every inch of her body, and in that moment she would have given anything to make it stop.

Hermione didn't hear him come in. She didn't feel his arms wrap around her and pull her off the ground. She didn't hear the spell he muttered to heal the gash on the back of her head or the words he whispered in her ear as he wiped away the blood. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was a pair of stormy grey eyes.

* * *

The old Draco would have never ran into the bathroom. Hell, the old Draco would have never ran after Hermione in the first place, but the war had changed everything. It had changed him.

After leaving the farm in Wisconsin, he traveled alone. Wandering from place to place without purpose. Trying to forgive himself. Trying to figure out where he had gone so horribly wrong. He couldn't just blame his parents. Sure, they had taught him to hate, but when he took the Dark Mark he was old enough to know better, smart enough to know that he was on the wrong side.

His prejudices dissolved as he traveled. He helped families rebuild their homes after a hurricane in Puerto Rico. He visited Auschwitz in Poland and the National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington D.C. He tracked down a couple of wannabe Death Eaters who had been attacking small muggle villages after Voldemort's fall, and found himself hunting down other despicable men. He read everything he could get his hands on. He listened. He learned. And by the time he returned home, he was a different man. A better man.

* * *

Hermione's eyes snapped open.

"Welcome back, Granger."

Draco's arms were wrapped around her, his eyes filled with worry. His wand was discarded on the floor next to him, along with a bloodied towel.

"You hit your head pretty hard," he explained, unable to tear his eyes away from her. "I healed the wound, but you should probably take it slow."

Hermione moved her hand to the back of her head. It was sore, but at least it wasn't bleeding. Despite how strange it was to see this version of Malfoy, she was thankful for his kindness. She shifted nervously in his arms, feeling exposed under his gaze and suddenly very aware of how close they were, his face inches from hers.

"I- thank you," she whispered, trying to shake the urge that she felt to reach out and touch his pale face.

"Can you sit up?" Draco paused, his quicksilver eyes still locked on hers. "I can make you some tea if you'd like."

She wasn't sure if she could, but he was still looking at her with his worried eyes and she wasn't about to admit weakness in front of a Malfoy. Hermione tested her strength by lifting her head slowly and then nodded. Draco removed his arms from her waist and eyed her suspiciously as she pushed herself upright. She swayed a bit on her feet and needed to put her arm against the wall to brace herself, but she managed to stand on her own. She took a moment to recover as his eyes bore into her and then shuffled over to the bathroom sink. When she was sure she wasn't going to pass out again, she turned and gave Draco a half-hearted thumbs up, ignoring the intense throbbing in her head. Although he wasn't convinced that she wouldn't topple over as soon as he turned his back, he got up and left her alone while he went to make the tea.

Hermione let herself look at her reflection in the mirror. She looked horrible. Her hair was difficult to tame under normal circumstances, but it currently looked like she had stuck her head out of a window on the Knight Bus. She brought her hand to her face, her fingers tracing the tear tracks along her cheeks eyes as she glared at her reflection. Her skin was red and blotchy, and her bloodshot eyes were underlain by prominent deep, dark circles. If she hadn't seen herself moving the mirror, she might have not recognized the person staring back at her.

She turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water on her face, sending a shiver through her body that resonated all the way to her toes. Still leaning over the sink, she let the cool water slowly run off her face before she put her hands back under the faucet turning her fingers through the steady stream. In an attempt to tame her disastrous mane, she brought her damp hands to the top of her head and moved them through her tangled curls, but a glance at the mirror told her that it hadn't helped. Groaning, she found a tube of toothpaste and squeezed some of the thick, white paste on her finger, swirling it around her teeth for a few moments before spitting it down the drain. After rinsing her finger, she turned off the faucet and cast her eyes toward her reflection again. She could have taken her wand out of her pocket and charmed her face until it looked normal, but she just didn't have the energy. It wouldn't have mattered anyways; _he_ had already seen her.

Hermione's head still felt like it was going to explode, and she rested it against the cool tiled wall near the sink, letting her eyes close, until she heard the whistle of a kettle. Sighing, she mustered all of her remaining energy and wandered into the kitchen, silently praying to every god she could think of that she wouldn't have another episode.

When she reached the kitchen, Draco's back was turned toward her, but she could see that he was doing things the muggle way.

 _Curious_ , she thought, tilting her head.

She stood there quietly, admiring the muscles working under his shirt. His tall frame, once boyish and lanky, had filled in since their Hogwarts years. His shoulders were broader than she remembered, and his arms looked like they could lift a hippogriff – he certainly had no issue pulling her off the bathroom floor. She licked her lips, and before she knew what she was doing, her eyes followed his spine to the signature platinum hair which was, of course, perfectly tousled at the top of his head. Objectively, he had always been nice to look at it, every girl in her year knew that, but his arrogant personality had (mostly) kept her from entertaining any wild fantasies about him when they were in school together. Now, however, after everything he had done for her in the past 12 hours, she couldn't even control the direction her thoughts were heading.

 _Oh great. I have officially lost it,_ she thought, trying to brush the thoughts away. Although his back was still turned to her, she could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Since when does a Malfoy make his own tea?" she asked, attempting to hide the tremor in her voice. She hadn't meant it to sound so harsh, but she needed to blurt something out to distract her mutinous brain, and it was the first thing that came to mind.

Thankfully, Draco laughed. "I lived with some muggles after the war," he explained as he turned around to face her. "Had to learn to do things without magic for once and found that I quite enjoy it."

Harry told Hermione that he was different, but she hadn't quite believed it. The Draco she knew from school was pompous and cruel. He had called her mudblood more times that she could count. He had tried to have an innocent animal executed, taken the Dark Mark, and let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. But the Draco standing in front of her was different and he was... well, he was grown up. And kind.

He handed her a cup of tea and leaned back on the counter. Her eyes glanced briefly over the faded Dark Mark on his forearm as he folded his arms across his chest, triggering an involuntary feeling of panic, but she recovered quickly and refocused her attention on the cup in her hands. She could feel his eyes on her as she brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. The warm liquid soothed her throat, and when it hit her stomach, she instantly felt the nausea leave her body.

"Prepared the tea the muggle way, huh?" Hermione inquired, raising her eyebrows.

He had clearly put some sort of anti-nausea potion in her tea, but Draco just shrugged in response before picking up his own cup of tea. Unsure of what else to say, Hermione drank her tea in silence, her mind quickly wandering the events of the previous couple of days.

The news of Ron's engagement had dampened her mood significantly, so much so that when she woke up on the morning of her birthday, Hermione decided she really wasn't in the mood to do anything and cancelled her plans with Harry and his family. Instead, she spent her birthday night alone, sitting on her couch and eating old take-out that she found buried in the back of her fridge. And then two days later, as if a ruined birthday wasn't bad enough, Harry had rushed into her office to warn her that the Daily Prophet had been informed about the engagement, and while he offered to let her stay at his place, she had declined. She could handle a few reporters; they didn't scare her. But when it was time to head home, she found herself walking the opposite direction straight into a pub she hadn't been to in years. She sat at the corner of the bar alone and ordered a couple of glasses of wine, downing them quickly. She remembered asking the bartender for something stronger and sipping a large glass of firewhiskey, but after that her memories became spotty. She remembered more firewhiskey. She remembered stumbling down a street. She remembered the sound of cars. She remembered someone chasing after her, yelling her name...

"Alright there, Granger?"

Hermione's eyes refocused, and she realized he was still studying her. A shiver travelled down her spine as she met his piercing gaze, and she tried to cover it with a cough.

"Sorry. Just lost in my head," she offered, smiling weakly. With her stomach settled, the embarrassment came flooding back, and she began fidgeting with her cup nervously. Why was she still here? Why did he keep looking at her like that? "I probably should go," she added after a few moments.

He looked like he might say something, but she spoke again before he had the chance.

"Thank you again. For everything," she said with forced confidence, hoping Draco didn't notice her voice cracking. She set her cup down, avoiding his eyes, and started looking around for her shoes.

Draco watched her curiously from his position in the kitchen as she made her way back down the hallway. He wanted to say something, anything to get her to stay a little longer, but he didn't have the slightest idea what to say. All he could do without making a fool of himself, he decided, was stand there and wait for her to leave, pretending that he didn't care if she did.

Hermione found her shoes on the floor in his bedroom and took a moment to collect herself before walking back down the hall. _Do not make an idiot of yourself in front of him_ , she whispered after taking a few deep breaths. When she finally turned to leave, she caught sight of the large stain on the top of the bed and gritted her teeth. _How embarrassing_. With a quick wave of her wand, she cleaned and straightened out his bedding before walking out of the room.

"I would really appreciate it if you didn't mention this to Harry. He would just worry," she said as she made her way back to the kitchen. She nearly shouted it, but his continued silence was making her uncomfortable, and she needed to get out of there before she did something stupid.

Draco pushed his body off the counter, his lips pursed together, and folded his arms across his chest. He wanted to ask if she was really alright. If there was anything else he could do. He wanted to tell her that she had just hit her head and that she should take it easy. He wanted to tell her that she should stay, but he didn't, he still couldn't find the words. Instead, he sighed and straightened himself out, deciding it was better to just let her go.

"Sure thing, Granger," he replied, his thoughts inscrutable, but his heart beating furiously beneath his chest. "But only if you promise me that I won't have to watch you puke all over my bed again anytime soon."

* * *

Draco watched as Hermione left, her wild hair trailing behind her. He hadn't known what to make of her all morning. Despite her claims otherwise, she clearly wasn't taking the news of Weasley and Parkinson's pending nuptials well. He wasn't sure about letting her leave so soon after her episode in his bathroom, but he also hadn't been too keen about what she would have done to him if he had found the words to force the matter. Granger was scary when she wanted to be.

It was Saturday, and after a long week he finally had nowhere to be. He glanced at his broom hanging on the wall near his front door and combed a hand through his hair. Most of the Aurors, Draco included, had been busy dealing with the sudden reappearance of Rodolphus, and he hadn't been able to make it to the field to practice in days. None of the Aurors assigned to the case had much time for anything else but work for the past week, but the Minister had insisted that they take the weekend off, and he suddenly found himself with some free time to fill.

Draco rubbed his eyes. Despite his exhaustion from the previous nights' events, he needed to get some fresh air. He Accio'd his quidditch robes, quickly changed into them before throwing his broom over his shoulder and walking out his front door. The practice field was a short broom-ride from his building, and while he was eager to get into the air, he decided to walk. He couldn't shake the vision of Hermione's sad eyes and thought the walk would clear his head.

He, like most everyone else, had never imagined a world where Granger and Weasley weren't together. Not too long after he re-emerged from his travels, he learned that they had broken up. He always assumed it would be temporary, but it became clear pretty quickly that their separation was more of the permanent type. Despite his active avoidance of workplace gossip, he heard the whispers when Hermione started seeing Oliver Wood and the giggles of young recruits chasing after Ron before he left his job at the Ministry. Due to his close proximity to Harry, he had gathered Hermione never dated anyone for more than a few months, and that she seemed to have a long line of admirers who were always willing to step up to the plate. However, he definitely hadn't been aware that Weasley and Parkinson were together, let alone together and serious. He took it by Hermione's mental state the previous night that she hadn't known the full extent of their relationship either.

Catching sight of the bright green field ahead, he quickened his pace. Clearly, the walk wasn't helping; he was still thinking about _her_. He let out a low growl and nearly sprinted the rest of the distance, trying to force the image of her out of his mind. As soon as his shoes touched the grass, he threw his leg over his broom and took off.

* * *

Hermione closed the door to her flat and leaned back against it. She shut her eyes and let out the breath she had been holding since leaving Draco's place.

By anyone's standards, it had been a strange morning. She'd woken up in Malfoy's bed, more hungover than she'd been in years, and if that wasn't embarrassing enough, she'd managed to have a panic attack and pass out on his bathroom floor. Despite everything, and despite her less than friendly demeanor all morning, he had been nothing but nice to her, and she still wasn't sure what to make of it.

_Why in the world would he help me?_

Sighing, she kicked off her shoes and made her way to the bathroom, trying to shake the image of him from her head. Daring another look in the mirror, she wasn't surprised that it hadn't improved since her last glance in a mirror and quickly averted her gaze. She turned the knobs on her bathtub, waved her wand to add her favorite vanilla scented bubbles, and slowly peeled off her wrinkled clothing, her body shivering as the chilled air around her blanketed her skin. The sound of the water filling the tub was soothing, so much so that she felt like she could fall asleep right there on her feet, and she had to fight to keep her eyes open as she stood there waiting.

When the water nearly reached the edge of the tub, she turned off the faucet and quickly sank into the warm, soapy water until she was covered up to her neck, the heat of the water instantly relaxing her sore muscles. She wanted nothing more than to wash away her poor decisions from the previous night, but short of Obliviating herself and Draco, she would just have to settle with washing away the smell of alcohol that was seeping out of every pore on her body. Careful to avoid the fresh bump on the back of her head, she leaned back, placing a small, folded towel at the side of the tub behind her neck, and let her legs fall into a comfortable position. Her eyes closed, and she took in a few deep breaths as drowsiness quickly invaded her body.

* * *

Sweat glistened on Draco's pale face, and his robes clung to his damp, tired body. It felt good to be back in the air, but after nearly two hours of flying, his limbs were screaming for a break. He spun around on his broom and maneuvered towards the ground, exhaustion filling every inch of his body as he landed. Despite his fatigue, he once again threw his broom over his shoulder and walked home, ignoring the prying eyes of the few women who had gathered to watch him fly as he exited the pitch.

When he reached his building, he slowly made his way up four long flights of stairs, wincing as he lifted his body up each step. He opened his front door and threw his broom inside as he moved through the doorway. Normally, he wasn't so careless with his belongings, especially his broom, but at the moment he was too tired to care. He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath, letting his eyes shut as he rested his head against the door. Opening his eyes, he gazed longingly toward his bedroom, his body eager to sleep. He crossed the hallway and walked hesitantly into his room only to find that everything was, thankfully, already clean and neatly folded. _Granger_.

Momentarily ignoring the draw of his bed, Draco stripped off his robes and walked into his bathroom, quickly turning on the shower and dragging his tired body inside the stall. He let out a hiss as the hot water fell on his sore muscles and enjoyed a few moments under the steady stream of water before grabbing the bar of soap from the ledge next to him. Slowly, he worked the soap into a lather, tracing it across his body to wash away the salty remnants of his workout. When the last of the suds had been rinsed from his body, he felt a familiar twinge between his thighs, and before he knew what he was doing, his hand was on his hardened length. He closed his eyes ready to conjure an image of one of his fantasies, but all he saw was _her_.

_Fuck._

He quickly moved his hand away and turned off the water. As he stood in the shower stall, he let the chilly fall air seep over his body from the open window nearby, his breathing heavy and ragged. That was not what he expected. Normally, he would roll with whatever image his brain brought forth to stimulate his release, but the image of Hermione startled him. It just didn't feel right to use her that way after witnessing her fragile mental state. He stood there for a few minutes shivering in the crisp air before drying himself off and walking back to his bedroom, hellbent on shaking the image from his mind.

When he reached his bed, he threw off the towel he had latched around his waist and crawled under the covers, which were bathed in an unfamiliar, feminine scent. _Vanilla_ , he thought. _Of fucking course it smells like her._ He stared up at the ceiling, worried that he wouldn't be able to sleep now despite his utter exhaustion, but the hum of the city outside his window lulled him into a deep sleep almost immediately.

* * *

_Her hands traveled down his chest, and she could feel his breath in her hair. His muscles flinched and tightened under her touch. Suddenly, his hands were around her waist, pulling her towards him. Her heart fluttered. She turned her attention upwards and began tracing her fingers along the side of his neck, lingering near his pulse. His heartbeat quickened as she replaced her fingers with her lips. She kissed his neck, leaving a trail of moisture until she reached the sensitive spot behind his ear. He moaned, and she pulled away to look up at him. Staring back at her were a pair of beautiful, stormy grey eyes._

Hermione jolted awake.

She was still in the bath, but the water had cooled dramatically and most of the suds had disappeared. Unfortunately, her wand was on the other side of the room near the sink, and she grumbled realizing that she wouldn't be able to avoid the chill of the air outside of the tub. She dunked her head under the water, using her fingers to quickly scrub her scalp, and pulled her body out of the tub, shivering slightly as she reached for a towel to soak the water off her limbs.

 _I really am going insane_ , she thought as her thoughts traveled back to her dream.

Hermione never considered herself the typical beauty. She was a bookworm. A star student. A perfect employee. People didn't tend to gravitate towards know-it-alls when picking romantic partners; however, after her breakup with Ron, she found herself surrounded by eligible bachelors battling for her attention. She attributed it to the fame that came with being a member of the Golden Trio, but Ginny constantly told her that wasn't really the reason.

While her public demeanor was all business, she considered herself relatively experienced in the bedroom. She knew what she wanted, and what got her off, and she definitely wasn't afraid to ask for it. Unfortunately after Ron, there was never any spark. Sure, she had met her fair share of eager and talented lovers, and sure, she even enjoyed many of the horizontal escapades that stemmed from her time with them, but not a single one of her conquests made her feel anything worth holding onto. She never felt butterflies in her stomach. Her thoughts never strayed to her partner's features during the day. She never dreamed about anyone.

Well, that is until now. And she hadn't even slept with the guy.

And worse, the guy was a Malfoy.

His grey eyes flashed in her head as she pulled her bathrobe on, and she felt a familiar longing between her thighs.

 _Well, fuck._ Perhaps she really did deserve better.

Hermione walked into her bedroom, threw off her bathrobe, and immersed herself immediately under the covers, her arousal already growing beyond her control. She moved her hand down between her legs, unable to ignore the tightening of her core, unable to get him out of her head, and imagined Draco's perfect body moving rhythmically on top of hers.

* * *

_Her hair smelled like vanilla. He took in a deep breath while he felt her hands tracing across his chest. Every place her fingers touched tingled. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her closer into him, his hands eager to explore her body. He shivered as he felt her fingers move up to his neck. Her lips found his pulse, and all of the air left his lungs. She moved her mouth slowly behind his ear, leaving a trail of moisture behind. He moaned. She pulled away and looked up at him with a pair of big, golden brown eyes._

Draco was suddenly very much awake.

He was sprawled on his stomach, his face buried in his pillows and most of his blankets kicked off to the side. He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep, but the sun was much lower in the sky than it had been when he laid down. Rolling over onto his back, he brought his hands to his face and exhaled deeply.

_Granger._

She had been the first woman to spend the night in his bed in nearly six months and he hadn't even been in it with her.

Despite his mother's constant pestering, Draco hadn't been very successful keeping a woman around. His longest relationship had been with Astoria, and even that had ended almost as quickly as it began. He could count on one hand the number of women he'd spent more than a couple weeks dating, and none of them had been quite what he was looking for. Honestly, he wasn't even sure what he wanted anymore.

Despite his loner tendencies, women were drawn to him. He was the infamous former Death Eater turned Auror who was friends with Harry Potter, the Ministry's mysterious reformed bad boy. Even in his self-enforced isolation, they always seemed to find him. At work. Outside the quidditch pitch. On his walk home. He was always polite, but he just wasn't interested in the sort of woman who devoted her days to following around a man that she barely knew.

He blushed involuntarily as his mind drifted back to Hermione. Her eyes were big and beautiful, and he had spent all morning studying them, trying to read what was going on behind them. He suddenly remembered that he wished she had stayed. He wanted to touch her all over. To kiss her all over. To…. _Fuck._ He was hard again, and this time he couldn't ignore it. He moved his hand to his cock and groaned.

_Fuck, Granger. What did you do to me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit (11/5/20): Very late into posting this story, I realized that I goofed on Hermione's birthday. Rather than adding a whole new section covering it, I decided to to just insert one very brief addition to this chapter: "The news of Ron's engagement had dampened her mood significantly, so much so that when she woke up on the morning of her birthday, Hermione decided she really wasn't in the mood to do anything and cancelled her plans with Harry and his family. Instead, she spent her birthday night alone, sitting on her couch and eating old take-out that she found buried in the back of her fridge." I would obviously do it a bit differently if I had caught this earlier on, but I'm not a huge fan of changing something dramatically after people have already read a story, so... hopefully this suffices.


	3. See You Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Genghis Khan by Miike Snow, Blinding Lights by The Weeknd, and Crickets by Big Wild

Odd was one way to describe the events of the past couple days. First, Hermione had gotten piss drunk, and woken up, very hungover, in Draco Malfoy's bed. Second, she had made a fool out of herself by splitting open her head when she had a panic attack in his bathroom. Third, though she still couldn't figure out exactly why, Malfoy had taken care of her for absolutely no other reason than to be kind. And to top it all off, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since – and not exactly in an innocent catholic schoolgirl kind of way.

Perhaps the reason she couldn't get him out of her head was that he'd saved her from the embarrassment of being found by anyone else, or worse, walking into oncoming traffic. She wasn't a damsel in distress, but there definitely was something to the whole _knight in shining armor_ thing people always talked about. Or possibly it was the way his muscles moved underneath his t-shirt when he made her tea. It was the kind of body she knew men had to work hard for, that most women drooled over, and apparently, whether she was happy about it or not, she was one of them. Or maybe, _maybe_ , it had been his eyes; the way they had studied her, the way they had followed her every move. She never realized how dark and stormy they were, how beautifully complex they were, and it made her shudder just to picture them.

Yes, it had to be the eyes. Those damn mercurial eyes.

It was Monday, and Hermione had things to do, but he was still invading her every single thought. Despite the fact that Malfoy had worked at the Ministry for five years, despite the fact that they worked on the same floor and that their teams regularly interfaced, she had seen very little of him. She knew he worked long hours, same as her, but he never lingered in the hallways and never seemed to spend any time in the staff rooms. Why hadn't they run into each other? Why hadn't they talked?

More importantly, why did she suddenly care?

Hermione looked down at the stack of papers on her desk and sighed. She had been in her office for three hours, but hadn't managed to get anything done, and if she couldn't find a way to focus, she would be here well into the night. Standing up, she grabbed her empty thermos and walked to the small kitchenette at the other end of the hall, trying desperately to shake the images of Draco from her mind. She entered the small room, filled her thermos with water and was about to heat it with her wand when her gaze fell on the rarely used kettle sitting near the sink.

 _For fuck's sake,_ she thought as she rolled her eyes, _even a damn tea kettle makes me think of him._ Angrily, she grabbed the kettle, filled it with water, and threw it roughly on the stove. _Oh good_ , _now I'm manhandling inanimate objects._

Taking a deep breath, she dumped out the water from her thermos and placed it on the counter next to her.

 _Pull yourself together_ , she whispered under her breath.

Leaning back against the counter, she closed her eyes hoping that her ridiculous daydreams would pass and waited for her water to boil, not even bothering to turn around when the door behind her opened. It was only when a body settled into a chair at the table nearest to her that she opened her eyes and looked to see who it was.

_Fucking of course it's him._

"Granger," Draco said with a small smirk.

"Oh," Hermione muttered, unable to hide the surprise on her face. "Hello," she added awkwardly.

Five years he'd been at the Ministry, and she hadn't spoken to him once. Five years. And now she couldn't stop running into him.

Wonderful, she thought. I'll _definitely be here all night now._

His eyes traveled over her face, studying her as if there was something important hidden beneath the surface of her skin. It was unnerving, and she shifted uncomfortably at the edge of the counter in an attempt to stifle the shiver that was about to let loose from her spine.

"Do you need something?" she asked finally.

Draco nodded toward the stove. "You're hogging the kettle."

"Oh, right," said softly. _Oh, right? Brilliant reply that was_ , she thought. "There should be enough water in there for us to share," she added quickly, trying to recover.

There was no way he could know exactly what she had been thinking about him the past few days, but that didn't stop the embarrassment from creeping onto her face, and she shifted her gaze to the floor as her cheeks reddened.

Draco cocked his head slightly. "I'm not going to bite, you know," he said after a few moments.

Hermione looked up and opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the loud whistle of the kettle. Before she could move to pull it off the stove, Draco was already standing.

"I got it," he said simply, his eyes still studying her as he pulled the kettle off the stove.

She handed him her thermos and watched silently as he collected two packets of tea and filled their respective vessels with the hot water. He placed her thermos on the counter next to her before turning toward the door, his own cup clasped tightly in his hand. Apparently, he didn't want to linger.

"See you around, Granger," he said softly, turning back to acknowledge her.

"Thank you," Hermione said, her voice quiet.

He paused, smiling, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "How will you ever enjoy another cup of tea without me?"

He was gone before she had a chance to react, leaving her alone and utterly bewildered.

_Did Malfoy just… flirt with me?_

* * *

Draco hadn't been able to get her out of his head. So, three days ago, when he had walked by one of the Ministry staff rooms and saw her at the sink filling a kettle with water, he Accio'd his coffee mug and mustered the courage to walk inside. She seemed to unravel in his presence, confirming his suspicions that he hadn't been the only one pondering their first real encounter, as disastrous as it had been, in over nine years. It didn't even matter that she barely spoke to him, the look on her face as he walked out of the door said enough. She had been thinking about him and not exactly in an innocent schoolgirl kind of way.

While he hadn't meant to make her anxious, he definitely wasn't complaining. Yes, women tended to fall apart around him, but Hermione wasn't like the others. She hadn't sought him out. She probably hadn't even given him a second thought since Hogwarts, and that immediately made things interesting. It meant that if he ever wanted anything to happen with her, he was going to have to work at it.

After their second encounter, he found himself lingering in places he normally wouldn't to catch a glimpse of her, as if a single sighting would satiate his sudden desire to be around her. But it was never enough. Sure, their histories certainly put them at odds with each other, and he honestly didn't expect she was really all that interested in him beyond a simple curiosity or daydream, but he wanted to talk to her again, to stare at her big toffee-colored eyes. He wanted to apologize for everything he had ever done to hurt her.

And maybe, just maybe…

It was only fitting then, when they literally, and quite accidentally, ran into each other in the hallway as they rushed to their respective offices this morning, that he was the one to forget his words.

The force of their collision sent her papers flying, and Draco reflexively grabbed onto her waist to keep her from falling. They stared at each other for a moment, her body positioned underneath his own, before he realized how ridiculous they would look to anyone passing by.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, her face inches away from his as the shock of their abrupt encounter wore off.

"Sorry," Draco mumbled as he eyed the large collection of papers strewn about them. "My fault."

He quickly pulled her upright and removed his hands from around her waist. Trying to hide his obvious embarrassment, he ran a hand through his hair and readjusted the broom strapped around his shoulder.

He hadn't been able to sleep last night, and instead of tossing and turning all morning in bed, he had grabbed his broom and headed straight for the Quidditch pitch near his flat. He had lost track of time as he flew around, and by the time he made it to the Ministry, he was late. So late, that he wasn't paying attention to where he was going and had run headfirst into the very person that had kept him up all night.

Hermione chuckled. "I'm not going to bite," she said with a smirk before waving her wand and collecting her papers.

Draco, startled by the ease at which she had used his own words, stared at her awkwardly, and unable to come up with a witty response, muttered a simple "hmph" in return.

"You really ought to be careful where you walk," Hermione told him. "Not everyone could handle ending up underneath you."

"I- what?" Draco asked, his heart beating furiously. _Did she really just say that?_

She turned her head slightly and smiled, clearly enjoying the fact that he had nothing snarky to say in response. But what she didn't know was that the look in her eyes was distracting, so much so that even if he had wanted to, even if he had managed to brush aside his shock at her words, he still wouldn't have been able to formulate actual coherent sentences. And he'd rather not say anything at all than open his mouth and make a complete and utter fool of himself in front of her.

Hermione studied him for a few more moments, her mouth twisted in obvious triumph as he fidgeted with his robes, before she made to continue on with her day.

"See you around, Malfoy," she said as she walked away, leaving him gawking in the hallway.

Draco growled.

_Granger._

* * *

Malfoy had gotten the better of her earlier in the week, and so she felt an odd sense of accomplishment when she had managed to leave him speechless a few days later. It really hadn't been terribly difficult. Yesterday, while she had been running to her office with a pile of papers in her arms, she had caught sight him, disheveled, moving quickly through the hall. Two weeks ago, she would have let him rush past her without a second thought, but not yesterday. Nope. Yesterday, she shifted her trajectory down the hallway to intersect with his own.

And she couldn't have engineered the result better if she had planned it diligently for weeks. Their collision caused her papers to fly into the air, falling into a circle around her the floor, and he had reflexively wrapped his arms – Merlin, his arms – around her waist to keep her from falling.

_I'm not going to bite._

The words had left her mouth before she even realized it, but the effect they had on him had made her stomach flip. And then, when she had bravely, and rather aggressively, used a very obvious sexual innuendo, Malfoy, who was usually so quick with words, had barely managed to mumble in return.

So, yes. Yesterday had been a good day. A very good day.

But that was yesterday, and this was today, and stupidly she hadn't been prepared for another run in with him so soon.

She wanted to blame it on Harry for having her meet him at his office before grabbing lunch together rather than meeting literally anywhere else, but how was he supposed to know that she was harboring a very sudden and ridiculous crush on the very man he was meeting with behind his closed office door. Honestly, she should have been expecting it. The universe had given her enough signs over the past week, so the fact that she hadn't seen it coming was entirely her own fault.

Hermione had been pacing outside of Harry's office, running through to-do lists in her head, when the door suddenly opened. She turned, ready to pounce on Harry for being late, only to find herself face-to-face with Malfoy. It wasn't a spectacular collision like the previous day, but he still put his hands on her shoulders to steady her as she tried to recover from another encounter.

"Granger," Draco said softly, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"Malfoy," Hermione responded quickly. "It's good to see you're still so remarkably talented at running into people."

He smiled. "It's good to see you're still a magnet for trouble," he retorted, cocking his head.

"If by trouble, you mean you, then yes, I can't argue with that," she told him with a smirk.

"Oh, you're just figuring that out?" Draco replied, finally removing his hands from her shoulders. "And here I thought you were the brightest witch of our age."

"Ahh, Hermione," came Harry's voice from inside the office, interrupting the stand-off that he wasn't aware was occurring in the doorway. "Sorry, I'm late. I'll be right out."

"Do try to avoid any life-threatening situations this afternoon," Draco said quietly as he moved his tall frame from the doorway and waved to Harry. "I won't be there to save you," he whispered.

Hermione stared up at him, her lips parted. _Well fuck, he has me there_ , Hermione thought when she realized she didn't have a witty response.

Another smile spread across Draco's face as he watched her mouth close in defeat. "See you around, Granger," he said as he stepped into the hallway, his shoulder brushing against hers as he passed.

She glared at his back as he sauntered down the hallway, her heart pounding and her palms sweaty.

 _Fine, he wins that one_.

* * *

"Draco, are you sure you're willing to do this again?" Harry asked, glancing over worriedly toward Kingsley.

"I certainly don't see anyone else volunteering for the job," Draco replied, shrugging. "It will take too long to train someone new. Plus, I'd really rather not put anyone else at risk."

"There are other Aurors who can perform Legilimency," Harry offered, studying Draco intently.

Draco shook his head. "Potter, you and I both know that I'm the only one who can do this right," he said, leaning back against the wall as he crossed his arms across his chest. "No one else needs to get hurt. I'm doing this."

"I don't like it," Harry declared, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I don't either, Harry," Kingsley said from his position at the other end of the room, "but if Draco is willing, then we really need to move forward."

Harry sighed. He had been hoping that Kingsley would have found someone else capable for the job by now, but they didn't exactly have the luxury of waiting around any longer.

"Fine, but he's not going alone.

"Agreed," Kingsley said, pausing to contemplate. "Perhaps Hermione?"

Draco, who had been bracing for his two bosses to continue discussing his well-being like he wasn't in the room, perked up at the mention of _her_ name. "Hermione?" he repeated.

"She does have the most experience with memory charms," Harry agreed, "but it's possible she may not be ready for this."

"You know her better than me, but I do think she's the best fit. If it will be too much, then we need to find someone else and quickly." Kingsley said to Harry. "I'll leave it up to you and Draco to decide," he added looking up at the clock, "I'm afraid I'm running late, so let me know if we need to bring someone else on board. I'll need an answer by the end of the day."

"Will do, Minister," Harry said.

"Minister," Draco nodded to Kingsley as he swooped out the room.

"What's this about Granger?" Draco asked after Harry shut the door.

Harry sighed sadly. "It's not common knowledge, but Hermione altered her parents' memories and sent them away to protect them during the war," he explained. "She still hasn't been able to reverse the damage." Harry readjusted his glasses and let out another sigh. "They were her only family," he added quietly.

"Oh," Draco breathed. Apparently, he and Hermione had more in common than he thought.

"Every time she visits them and fails, I'm afraid she'll never come back," Harry continued, his voice low. "She blames herself, but she did what she needed to."

"Can't say I would have done it differently if I had been in her shoes," Draco offered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "At least she knows they're alive," he added, unsure of what else to say.

"Yes, her actions probably saved their lives, but it also destroyed the relationship she had with them," Harry said, sitting back on the edge of his desk. "They were really close."

Draco cringed.

"She's always been like that," Harry added when he saw the pained look on Draco's face. "Always protecting everyone but herself."

"How good is she with memory charms?" Draco asked, moving a hand to the back of his neck.

"The best," Harry replied without hesitation. "Saved us more than once while we were hiding from Voldemort."

Draco nodded in understanding. "Listen, I don't want to be insensitive to her situation, but the best is probably what we're going to need when I attempt this again," he said carefully. "I can't say I'm terribly excited about the prospect of coming home brain damaged."

"I know," Harry said softly. "She's the best choice. I'll bring up to speed after the meeting on Monday. I think it will be easier than giving her the whole weekend to worry about it."

"Do you want me to be there when you tell her?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, that's probably smart," Harry replied. "I have to get you two working as a team at some point," he added with a chuckle.

"I'll take it easy on her," Draco promised with a devilish smile.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Be nice," he warned, shaking his head at Draco, "she doesn't know you like I do."

 _For now_ , Draco thought.

"Should we warn her?" Draco asked, his voice serious again as he ran a hand through his hair, "About what happened last time?

Harry was quiet for a moment. "She's probably going to murder me for this later, but let's keep the specifics between us," he replied. "I don't want to give her another reason to be hesitant to help."

"It's your head, Potter," Draco said, shrugging as he moved toward the door. "Quidditch tomorrow?" he asked as he closed his fingers around the doorknob.

"Definitely," Harry responded. "You look like you could use an embarrassing defeat or two."

"You wish, Potter," Draco said, laughing as he threw open the door.

He wasn't expecting someone to be blocking his exit (because who in their right mind would stand so close to the outside of a closed door), and he almost choked when he realized the obstruction was the unruly-haired girl of his daydreams. Hermione swayed slightly at their almost-contact, and he instinctively put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

"Granger," he said as her eyes widened in surprise.

"Malfoy," she responded, recovering quickly. "It's good to see you're still so remarkably talented at running into people."

Draco smiled.

"It's good to see you're still a magnet for trouble," he retorted.

"If by trouble, you mean you, then yes, I can't argue with that," she said, the corner of her lips twitching.

"Oh, you're just figuring that out?" Draco replied. He didn't want to move his hands, but he had kept them around her shoulders for longer than was appropriate, and so he moved them away slowly. "And here I thought you were the brightest witch of our age," he added.

"Ahh, Hermione," came Harry's voice from inside the office, interrupting the stand-off that he wasn't aware was occurring in the doorway. "Sorry, I'm late. I'll be right out."

"Do try to avoid any life-threatening situations this afternoon," Draco said as he stepped close to her. He turned and waved goodbye to Harry. "I won't be there to save you."

Hermione opened her mouth but closed it quickly.

 _Got her_.

"See you around, Granger," he said as he stepped into the hallway, purposefully brushing his shoulder against hers.

Draco smiled to himself as he walked away, resisting the urge to turn around.

_Oh, I definitely won this one._


	4. The Assignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Dirty Paws by Of Monsters and Men, Pieces by Andrew Belle, and Nothing But You by Bob Moses

Hermione was late. Swearing under her breath, she sprinted towards the conference room she should have been in five minutes ago, her hair flying wildly behind her as she maneuvered around the crowded hallway. Kingsley had called an early Monday morning meeting with the Aurors and other ranking members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to which she belonged, and despite arriving at her office much earlier than normal that morning, she had lost track of time thinking about the same person who had been on her mind all weekend.

_Fucking, Malfoy._

Her delicate blouse and tight, dark green pencil skirt weren't exactly well-suited to running, or any physical activity for that matter, but run she did, the clang of her favorite black heels echoing off the walls. While she wanted to berate herself for wearing something so ridiculously out of character to work, especially now that she found herself running awkwardly down the hallway trying not to fall flat on her face, she knew exactly why she had done it _._ And who she had done it for.

As she rounded the last corner, she glanced at her watch, hoping she hadn't lost too much time daydreaming in her office, and ran headfirst into something solid and warm.

"Ouch, Granger," the object spoke.

"Shit, I- I'm so-" she looked up and saw Malfoy's pale face staring back at her.

_Why is it always him?_

"Sorry?" he offered with a grin.

"Yes, right. Sorry," she breathed, clinging tightly to the papers in her hand as if they would help keep her upright.

"After you," Draco said, his arm pushing the door open to let her through.

The meeting hadn't started yet, but it seemed that the two of them were the last of the audience to arrive. Hermione eyed the two remaining unoccupied chairs which were crammed next to each other in the back corner of the room, and sighed. _Just what I need,_ she thought. She made her way to the first chair, tucking a hand under her legs to smooth the underside of her before sitting down, and felt Draco brush past her as he settled into the second.

It wasn't totally clear whether her still elevated heartbeat was due to her mad dash down the hallway or her run-in and subsequent interaction with Malfoy, and she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted for the answer. What was clear, however, was that the man next to her was as thoroughly distracted as she was by the closeness of their bodies. Without needing to turn her head, she could feel a pair of steely, gray eyes on her – on her legs specifically – and she had to fight the urge to smile. Crossing one leg over the other, she turned her knees slightly in Malfoy's direction, dangling a high heeled foot so that it was almost touching his leg, and plopped her pile of papers in her lap. She turned her head slightly, trying to catch another glimpse of the hard lines of his face without him noticing, but was interrupted when Kingsley and Harry entered the room.

Harry spoke first, stepping up to the small podium at the front of the room. "Thank you everyone for coming," he began, the room quickly quieting at the sound of his voice. "Some of you are already aware what this meeting is about, but for those who you have not already been briefed, I want to emphasize that everything communicated with you here today cannot be discussed with anyone outside of this room."

He paused, looking around the room as people nodded in understanding.

"Two weeks ago, a young muggle boy was found near death on the side of a busy road," he continued, raising a hand to adjust his glasses. "The boy was conscious, but unable to respond to simple questions and commands. The muggle doctors who treated him believed he was in shock. Unfortunately, when they attempted to treat the boy, he began screaming and tried to claw his way out of his room. They were able to sedate him with muggle drugs but could not determine the cause of his violent behavior nor could they keep it from re-emerging when the drugs wore off. By complete chance, a Healer from St. Mungo's was visiting a relative being treated in the room next door to the boy. She witnessed one of the boy's episodes and noticed some striking similarities between the boy's behavior and that of a patient who had been subjected to magical torture. While the Healer wasn't able to examine the boy, she immediately alerted the Ministry."

"One of our Aurors managed to gain access to the boy's room later that night and used Legilimency to try to determine if a curse had been used on him. The boy's mind was mostly blank, as if all of his memories had been wiped away, but before the Auror released the spell an image of a figure appeared and casted an unknown curse, one with effects similar to the Cruciatus Curse _._ "

Audible gasps rang out across the audience, and although Hermione couldn't see anyone's face from her position in the back of the room, she could sense people's horror. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Draco's hands were clinging to his legs, his fingers digging into the tops of his knees. She lifted a hand to comfort him, but she caught herself, the tips of her fingers only inches away from the top of his hand, and quickly moved her hand to tuck her curls behind her ear. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice.

Hermione knew what was coming next in the story, but it didn't lessen the anger she felt rising from deep inside as she refocused her attention to the front of the room. Only a truly evil person could torture a defenseless, innocent boy, and it made her blood boil.

Harry inhaled deeply. "The person who cast the curse was Rodolphus Lestrange."

The gasps around the room were even louder this time, and Kingsley took the opportunity to replace Harry at the podium, raising his hand to quiet the room.

"The boy has been moved to St. Mungo's and is under our protection," he explained calmly. "I think it goes without saying but finding Rodolphus will take precedence over any assignments people in this room are currently working on. If he is really back in Britain, we need to do everything in our power to capture him before he hurts anyone else," Kingsley paused, his eyes scanning the room. "The Auror office has been interrogating Death Eaters in Azkaban and searching some of the old hideouts, but we have no new leads. Each of you in this room has been selected for a particular task to aid in the Aurors' search and assignments will be waiting for you on your desk when you return to your offices."

Except for the sound of people shifting nervously in their seats, the room was silent, but Hermione could feel it ready to erupt in questions. Kingsley seemed to sense the same thing and added, "I ask you to please hold your questions until you have read your assignments. Should you still have any inquiries, please direct them to Harry."

Kingsley gave Harry a nod, and then stepped aside to let him continue.

Harry cleared his throat. "We are hoping to catch Rodolphus off guard," he said, his eyes falling briefly on Hermione before drifting to another location in the room. "We think that the curse cast at the boy was meant to torture and kill him, so it is possible that Rodolphus is unaware that the boy survived. The quicker we can decipher the boy's memories, the less likely news of our involvement will reach him, and the easier it will be to catch him."

Harry continued speaking, but Hermione's mind wandered. She already knew the details; Kingsley had told her the story shortly after the boy was admitted to St. Mungo's, and it still horrified her. This kind of violence was supposed to have disappeared with Voldemort, and while she never expected things to be perfect after the war, this was a particularly hard pill to swallow. Rodolphus had been exceptionally brutal during the war, responsible for as much bloody torture and disfigurement as his own psychotic wife, and it appeared he hadn't changed a bit.

Hermione's eyes glazed over, and when she finally dragged herself out of her thoughts, she realized that Harry had ended the meeting and people were filing out of the room. She stood up to join the crowd, knowing that she likely had a tower of tasks waiting for her on her desk, but paused when she saw Harry maneuvering his way toward her position in the back of the room, his hand lifted in the air to get her attention. As she waited, she noticed Draco was still seated next to her, his eyes following Harry's movement across the room.

"Draco. Hermione. I need to speak with you both," Harry said quietly when he reached them.

Draco nodded quickly, his eyes focused awkwardly on the ceiling, while Hermione mumbled a quick "okay." She wasn't sure why Harry needed to see both of them at the same time, but she was going to have to find a way to hold it together.

Harry smiled and motioned for them to follow him out of the conference room. He led them down the long hallway to an unoccupied room and ushered them inside, locking the door behind him before he turned to address them, his face painted with apprehension.

"I need you both to visit the boy at St. Mungo's and attempt to repair his memories," Harry explained, his eyes lingering nervously on Hermione as he spoke.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry silenced her with a wave of his hand.

"Hermione, you know more about memory charms than anyone in the Ministry," he continued, clearly prepared for her objections. "Just because you haven't been successful with your parents, doesn't mean you won't be helpful here."

Hermione could feel Draco's eyes on her as Harry spoke, but she didn't dare look at him. Instead, she chewed nervously at her lip.

"With Draco's skill in Legilimency, you two are the best hope we have at uncovering any of the boy's memories," Harry finished, shifting his attention to Draco who had positioned himself against the wall near the door.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, and she finally risked a glance at Draco, who had (thankfully) shifted his dangerously perceptive eyes from her to the ground.

_So, he had been the one to search the boy's memories._

"Are both of you willing to do this?" Harry asked, his eyes traveling nervously between the pair.

Having already agreed to the assignment, Draco nodded silently before casting his gaze back toward Hermione, who was rocking slightly on her feet.

Hermione hesitated, but she knew that she would never be able to turn the assignment down. "Yes, of course," she responded quietly.

Harry exhaled deeply and smiled.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said softly. "St. Mungo's has been informed of your visit," he added, turning to Draco and handing him a small piece of parchment. "I trust you two can figure out the details?" he finished.

"We're not children anymore, Harry," Hermione said a little too harshly.

Harry sighed, shaking his head slightly, and Draco, whose thoughts had been inscrutable throughout the entire conversation, raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise.

"We'll be fine," she revised, brushing a curl out of her face.

 _Behave_ , Harry mouthed at her to which she rolled her eyes.

Draco wasn't sure if her tone was a response to being forced to work with him or if it was a response to being asked to accomplish something that she hadn't been able to do for her own parents, but he hoped it was the latter. For some reason – okay, lots of reasons – he couldn't stand the idea of Hermione not wanting to be around him.

"Send an owl if you need me," Harry added, seemingly satisfied that the outbursts had been kept to a minimum. He nodded at Draco as if to wish him luck, before opening the door and leaving the pair alone in the room together.

"Excited to work with me I see, Granger," Draco said as he leaned against the wall, studying her. She looked anxious, but then again, that wasn't entirely new behavior for her, and he wasn't really sure how to approach her today.

"I didn't know you were a Legilimens," Hermione said softly, choosing to ignore his snarky comment. It was one thing to flirt with him in the hallways, but she was already nervous about their assignment and didn't want to steer them in the wrong direction.

"Bella– my aunt taught me," he responded, averting his eyes from her gaze when he caught his mistake.

"Oh, right," she replied quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

 _Imbecile,_ Draco thought, berating himself for his slip-up. _You literally could have said anything else._

He opened his mouth to apologize but caught the disturbed look on Hermione's face and decided it wasn't the best time. If there was any chance of recovering the boy's memories, she was going to need to focus, and talking about what Bellatrix had done to her during the war, even if just to tell her he was sorry for his part, was undoubtedly the last thing she needed right now. His apology could wait.

"As much as I would love to stand here quietly with you, we should probably get going," Draco said finally, pushing his tall frame off the wall.

"Yes, right," Hermione muttered, clutching her papers against her chest as she lifted her eyes. "I just need to grab a book from my office first."

 _Of course she does_ , Draco thought.

* * *

They landed outside of St. Mungo's ten minutes later, having Apparated from the Ministry, and Draco led the way through the window of the condemned department building which concealed the hospital. As they entered, Hermione glanced around at the people waiting. Two healers on her right were attending to a small wizard who appeared to be holding the dismembered fingers of his left hand. On her left, there was a young girl covered in boils, an older woman trying to comfort her as they sat waiting. Despite it likely being no different than any other day in the waiting room of a wizarding hospital, Hermione shivered. She didn't like hospitals; they reminded her too much of the war. Trying to shake the sickening feeling in her stomach, she quickly refocused her attention to the desk near the middle of the room.

Draco walked up to the receptionist, a petite, brown-haired woman dressed in all-white, and passed her the small piece of parchment Harry had handed him earlier. The young woman bashed her eyelashes at him after reading the note and gave him a room number on the fourth floor before attempting to engage him in conversation. Draco, who apparently had no patience for small talk, tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter in front of him, and it was only when he stepped slightly to the side in agitation that the receptionist noticed Hermione standing behind him. The woman paused, flashing what Hermione could only assume was her most menacing smile, but frowned when Draco took the opportunity to politely disengage. Despite the overwhelming urge she felt to slap the woman as she turned to follow him, Hermione managed to restrain herself, and followed Draco as he quickly sped down the hallway to the stairway.

As they climbed the last set of stairs and entered the hallway where the boy was being kept, Hermione nervously twirled one of her curls around her finger as they walked through the halls. What if she couldn't help the boy? What if, like her parents, he never remembered?

They stopped outside a guarded door, and Draco spoke a few words to the guard, who nodded and then stepped aside to let them pass into the boy's room. Most of the furniture had been removed from the room, leaving only a single bed, on which the boy was laying, and a small bedside table, next to which a Healer was organizing a collection of potions. After closing the door behind her, Hermione moved farther into the room and let out a small gasp when she saw how small the boy was. He couldn't be more than six years old. The boy's limbs were strapped to the bed, his head placed delicately on a pillow, and his eyes were closed, but she could see his eyes moving furiously behind his lids. Her hands began to shake as the gravity of her task finally hit her, but she relaxed slightly when she felt Draco's presence next to her. At least she wasn't going to have to do this alone.

"You must be from the team from the Ministry," the Healer said, looking up from the potions. When her eyes fell on Draco, she tilted her head slightly and smiled, her hands nervously smoothing her lime green robes. "I'm Healer Larson, but please just call me Edda," she added happily, her eyes so busy studying Draco that didn't even glance at Hermione as she introduced herself.

"How is he?" Draco asked, not bothering to offer his or Hermione's name.

"Much the same," Edda replied, surprised at his curtness. "We've had to keep him on a large dose of sleeping draught to prevent him from hurting himself and others, but he's stable for now."

"Has he said anything since he was brought here?" Hermione inquired as she walked up the side of the boy's bed.

"Nothing," Edda began, her eyes darkening. "When he's conscious he doesn't speak. If he's conscious for too long, well… He starts screaming." She wasn't smiling anymore.

"Where are his parents?" Hermione asked quietly.

"We haven't been able to locate them," Edda responded sadly. "I was informed you're here to try to recover his memories."

Hermione nodded.

"Perhaps, you'll be able to help us find them then," Edda said hopefully.

"We'll certainly try," Hermione offered with a weak smile.

"I think it's best that we get to work," Draco said suddenly, prying his eyes away from the boy.

"Very well," Edda said, her eyes still lingering on Draco as she spoke. "He just received another dose of sleeping draught, so he should sleep peacefully for the next few hours. I'll leave you two alone with him, but if you need anything, I'll be in my office down the hallway," she added before walking briskly out of the room, her robes flying behind her.

Draco walked over to Hermione and sighed.

"What do you think, Granger?" he asked, resisting the urge to place a hand on her shoulder.

Honestly, she didn't know what to think. She wasn't really sure what to do. The book she was holding in her hand contained plenty of information on memory charms, but very little on reversing them. She didn't know why she had bothered bringing it along; it definitely wasn't going to provide her with step-by-step instructions to complete the task Harry had given them.

"It will be difficult to reverse the memory charm, if we don't know exactly how it was cast," Hermione said finally, placing her book on the table next to the bed. "Are you sure you didn't see any other memories when you entered his mind before?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Draco said flatly. "But I didn't linger after I saw Rodolphus' face, so it's entirely possible that I missed something later in the memory," he added, knowing what would be asked of him next.

"I think it would be best if you try again before I attempt any counter spells," Hermione decided, her eyes locking nervously with his as she spoke.

Draco's jaw tightened, but he nodded in agreement. With their limited amount of information, it was the most logical course of action, and whether he was excited about it or not, he had been mentally preparing himself for the inevitability of searching the boy's memories again all weekend.

"Listen," he said after a moment, realizing that he needed to warn her before they went any further. "After I managed to pull myself away from the memory last time, my body almost went into shock," he paused, shivering slightly before continuing. "Muscle memory, I think, from all the times I was tortured when I was a Death Eater. Just- just be prepared when I pull away, okay?"

If Hermione hadn't seen the flicker of fear in his eyes as he spoke, she might have thought he was kidding, but it was clear something had happened to him last time, and she didn't argue. He certainly didn't have to elaborate about what it felt like to be tortured with dark magic.

"I'll be ready," she promised, swallowing heavily.

Draco repositioned himself near the boy's head, inhaling deeply, and raised his wand.

"Legilimens."

_He was surrounded by blinding whiteness. There was nothing. No emotions. No memories. The boy's mind was as strange and empty as it had been the first time, and that wasn't comforting. Draco began working his way toward the edges of the boy's mind, for the moment avoiding the corner where he knew the memory of Rodolphus waited, looking for anything that had escaped his first search. But after a few minutes of searching, he reluctantly conceded that there was nothing new._

_Knowing what he needed to do next, he dove quickly into the memory he'd been avoiding before he could change his mind, before the knowledge of what happened last time kept him from doing his job. Rodolphus' form appeared, and Draco watched as the curse hit the boy's body and, just like it had happened before, he was immediately overcome with pain. He frantically searched the memory for any clues, any marker that could lead them to Rodolphus, but the longer he stayed in the memory, the more difficult it became for him to focus. Everything hurt, his insides felt like they were on fire, and he knew that if he didn't pull himself from the memory soon, he might not be able to recover._

_As he struggled against the pain, he thought he could hear someone calling to him, someone touching him, someone telling him to come back, and with his last coherent thought he realized that he needed to leave the memory. It was then, when he somehow finally found the energy to release the spell, that he noticed something new. There, behind Rodolphus, was a strange black tree humming with magic._

Draco was whimpering and thrashing on the ground in pain, but as long as he stayed in the boy's memory, Hermione wasn't sure she could help him. Unable to watch him suffer alone, she dropped to her knees and placed his head in her lap, her right hand gripping her wand tightly, desperately trying to think of any spell that could help him, but everything she tried seemed to have no effect. He continued to shake in her lap as tears began to fall down his porcelain check, and she stroked his forehead, promising him that it was going to be okay, that it would be over soon. _Come back to me_ , she repeated over and over. _Please, Draco._

Suddenly his body stilled, and his eyes blinked open.

"Draco!" Hermione cried out. She choked back a sob when she caught the tortured look in his eyes. "Draco, thank Merlin," she breathed, her hands shaking as she brushed the hair away from his eyes.

He reached a shaky hand up to her face as if to touch her, but then pulled it away.

"Black tree," Draco mumbled so softly that she almost couldn't hear. "I saw a black tree."

* * *

Hermione was furious.

"You knew!" she yelled, her cheeks flushed with anger. "You knew what happened the first time he entered the boy's memory, but you still sent him off to try again without any protection! Without warning me!"

"Hermione-"

"No! Harry, what the bloody hell were you thinking? It could have destroyed him!"

"Yes, but- "

"What kind of monster knowingly sends someone to be tortured!?"

"Hermione-"

"He could have died!"

"But he-"

"Since when did you start withholding vital information from people?" she interrupted again, her voice cracking, and her hands shaking uncontrollably at her sides. "Since when did you stop caring about people's well-being?"

"That's not-"

"The memory tortured him! And you let it happen! Twice!"

Hermione wasn't sure how long she'd been yelling at him, but it definitely didn't seem like long enough, and she paused trying to think of what else she could say to get it through Harry's thick skull that what he had done was most definitely not okay.

"Hermione, calm down," Harry finally managed to say. "Draco volunteered for the job, and he wasn't alone. He had you."

Harry was used to Hermione's angry outbursts, but they hadn't been directed at him in years, and it was obvious that he was out of practice. Unfortunately for him, there was no question whether he deserved her wrath this time or not. He undoubtedly did.

The fact that Draco had been so affected by the boy's memory was still a mystery. Neither Kingsley nor any of the Aurors had heard of a memory affecting someone the way it had affected Draco, and they had all known it was a gamble to send him back to the boy, but then again, it would have been a gamble to send anyone in his stead. At least this time, it had happened at St. Mungo's.

"I will not calm down!" Hermione responded, her voice hitting Harry's eardrums with surprising force. "You can't possibly tell me that you think it's okay what happened to him, what you sent him to do despite knowing what would happen."

Barely able to look him in the eye, Hermione stood in front of Harry, breathing heavily. She didn't think he was taking this seriously enough. Watching Draco fall to the ground and writhe in pain had been hard enough, but the fact that Harry hadn't warned her, given her time to prepare, was infuriating. She would have tried to figure out a way to protect Draco, to shield him from the pain. While she had agreed to try to help recover the young boy's memories, she had not agreed to watch helplessly as another person was tortured in the process, and she was going to make damn sure that Harry never, ever made that mistake again.

"Hermione?" Harry began, standing up from his desk and moving next to her. "Draco knew the risks," he continued, putting an arm around her, hoping that she would refrain from slapping him. "I originally planned to have another Auror attempt to read the boy's memories, but Draco refused to allow it. He said it would take too long to train someone to do what needed to be done."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, her mind racing.

"If you ever put me in that position again," she said firmly, pausing to shove Harry away, "if you ever make him do that again, I will make sure you vomit slugs for a month."

He didn't doubt she was serious.

"Where is he now?" Hermione demanded, her chest still heaving as Harry moved back toward his desk.

"He's resting in the infirmary," he told her, removing his glasses and rubbing his temples. "Hermione, you did everything you could. He's going to be alright."

Without another word, she grunted and stomped out of Harry's office, her curls flying angrily behind her.

Harry watched her go, rubbing his temples with his fingers before falling back into his chair. He knew it was a risk not telling her about what happened the first time Draco attempted to look into the boy's mind, but he had been hopeful that he wouldn't need to revisit the memory so soon.

He sighed. _So much for that_.

* * *

When Hermione reached the entrance to the Ministry's infirmary, she paused. The whole ordeal had been terrifying. Despite a group of Healers quickly rushing to Draco's aid after her shouts alerted the guard standing outside the door, she was afraid that the memory had caused permanent damage. Harry had run into the room while she was speaking with one of the Healers, and Draco's presence, even as out of it as he was propped against the wall as the Healers checked his vitals, had been the only thing that kept her from marching across the room and punching her oldest friend directly in the face.

She really didn't want to bother Draco, she knew he was likely exhausted and needed to sleep off the pain he had just been put through, but she had to know if he was alright. Taking a deep breath, she hastily pulled her curls into a bun on top of her head and walked through the door.

Draco was laying on the bed closest to the charmed window. She couldn't tell if he was awake, so she approached him quietly. _He looks so peaceful now_ , she thought, her eyes drinking in his still form. His head was turned slightly to the side and one muscled arm was draped over his head on the pillow, while his other was folded over his abdomen. The blanket had been kicked to the end of his bed, where his bare feet were sprawled haphazardly over the tangled pile of cloth.

Hermione sat down and watched his chest rise and fall under his white shirt for a few minutes before she realized how strange it would look for someone to find her watching over him like this. He probably didn't even want her there anyways.

She stood up to leave, but was stopped by a low, groggy voice.

"Stay," Draco said, his tone registering somewhere between a plea and a demand.

Hermione sat back down, moving her hands nervously to her lap.

"Thank you," he added, turning his head to look at her.

"I didn't do anything," she mumbled, her eyes glued to his despite her embarrassment at being caught lingering at his bedside. "I couldn't do anything to stop it."

Draco slowly shifted his body into a semi-upright position, ignoring the dull pain in the back of his head, and reached for her hand.

"If you hadn't been there talking to me, I'm not sure I would have come back to myself," he admitted seriously.

His face was so often impossible to read, but Hermione could see that he was begging her to believe him, and it was almost too much to handle. Blushing, she looked down at their hands.

And Draco wasn't lying. Her voice had called him back to reality just when he thought he might succumb to the pain in the memory. She had been there comforting him when he opened his eyes, and he would never forget it.

"Hermione," he said softly, trying to coax her eyes back to his.

Her eyes snapped back to his face when she heard him say her name. Not Granger. _Hermione_.

Draco swallowed heavily when he saw the tears in her eyes. Fucking hell, they were for him. Without letting go of her hands, he turned so that his feet touched the ground next to the bed, his upper body leaning toward her. He could feel her trembling, and without a second thought, he pulled her into him and held her tightly, letting out a sigh as he felt her melt against him.

"It's alright," he told her, resting his chin softly above her head. "I'm okay."

"I couldn't bear it. I knew you were in so much pain- and I- I couldn't help you," she muttered, burying her face against his warm chest, embarrassed that he was the one comforting her after everything he had just gone through.

"You did help me," Draco asserted, rubbing her back softly. "Last time I experienced the memory, I was alone. Last time, I didn't have anyone to pull me away, but this time I had you."

His words calmed her as she leaned against him. Her cheek was resting on his chest, his heart beating steadily below it, and she realized that she didn't want to let go. She didn't want him to ever stop touching her.

Draco inhaled deeply. _Vanilla_. When Hermione finally turned her head to look at him, he almost forgot to breathe, his chest tightening as he stared into her eyes. She was beautiful, and her eyes – he just wanted to get lost in them. He brushed a curl behind her ear, and she let out a small mewl, the sound reverberating down his entire spine. Her eyes were sparkling, threatening to consume him, and he couldn't look away. They were so close; he could almost taste her.

"Draco-"

Unable to resist any longer, he threw his lips against hers and wrapped his hands gently around the backside of her neck. She moved her hands to his chest, and for a second, he thought she might push him away, but instead, she grabbed his shirt, bunching it up in her fists and pulled him closer. In response, he deepened their kiss, relishing in the taste of her on his tongue, and his entire body tingled as she moaned into his mouth. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like this, or if he'd ever felt like this, and he had to fight back his more carnal desires as her hands traveled under the soft fabric of his shirt.

Hermione's hands explored Draco's bare skin, taking in every scar and dimple. She could feel his muscles tensing under her touch and it triggered heat to erupt deep within her belly. His hands were resting on either side of her neck, his thumbs sweeping softly across her cheeks, while his tongue continued to clash elegantly against hers. It was intoxicating being with him like this, in a place anyone could just walk in, and she had to fight the urge to rip his clothes off.

Suddenly, Draco pulled away from the kiss and looked at her lustfully. The sight of her kiss-swollen lips and flushed skin almost sent him over the edge. He wanted her, _needed_ to feel her hands all over his body.

Hermione stared up at Draco's beautiful stormy eyes, her breathing ragged. She wanted more; she _needed_ to feel every inch of his body against hers.

But just as she was about to grab Draco and pull him back in, the door to the infirmary opened and voices carried across the room. Without hesitating, she jumped out of his arms and began adjusting her clothes. Draco swiveled his legs back on the bed and tried to flatten his wrinkled shirt. Hermione half expected it to be Harry, but she didn't recognize the two men who walked in. One was limping, while the other was supporting his friend's weight. They were both laughing about something.

She turned back toward Draco, a smile of relief on her lips. He smiled back, his pale cheeks flushed with color. She knew she should have felt embarrassed for almost being caught, but she didn't. Something about what they had just done felt… right.

Laughter erupted again from the other side of the room.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, licking her lips.

"You're really asking me how I'm feeling, Granger?" he challenged, his mouth bent into a perfectly stupid smirk.

They both laughed.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

She was blushing again. The memory of what just happened still swimming in her head, and her lips tingling just at the thought of kissing him again.

"I think I'm all better now," Draco said with a smile, pulling himself up off the bed. He brushed the back of his hand lightly against Hermione's cheek. "Do you think anyone will miss us if we sneak out for dinner?"

"Is Draco Malfoy asking me out on a date?"

"Yes, I suppose I am."

Hermione's heart fluttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! It seems that I've settled on a Tues/Fri posting schedule for now - that may change as we get toward the end of the story, but I promise to warn you if it does. Right now, it looks like this story will be about 30 chapters long.
> 
> Oh and this was never going to be a slow burn, so my previous smut warning stands. GIRD. YOUR. LOINS. (insert Stanley Tucci from The Devil Wears Prada)


	5. Two's Company, Four's a Crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - I Want It by Two Feet, Somebody Else by 1975, and Only by Aubergine Machine

Hermione would have been happy to eat dinner with him anywhere, but Draco had insisted that she deserved better than just any old café, and after the events of the day, she really couldn't find the will to argue with him. He didn't tell her where they were headed as they weaved their way through the crowds in Diagon Alley, and so when he came to a stop in front of one of the more popular (and expensive) restaurants, she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

 _You can take the man out of Malfoy Manor, but apparently you can't take all of the Malfoy out of the man_ , she thought, laughing softly to herself.

Before Hermione had the chance to taunt him for his _oh-so-predictable_ taste in dining establishments, Draco threaded his arm through hers and led her past the crowd of eager diners waiting outside. As they approached the front door, a young host caught sight of Draco and nearly stumbled over his feet as he rushed to greet them. Draco shook the man's hand and muttered a few quick words of hello – plus a few more that Hermione couldn't quite make out – and within matter of seconds, the host was ushering the duo inside. After being guided to a table near the back of the restaurant, one that was perfectly positioned away from prying eyes, and left to settle into their new surroundings, Hermione looked up at Draco questioningly.

"I helped the owner out of a tight spot a few years ago," Draco explained, shrugging as if having an open-ended reservation at one of the most popular restaurants in Wizarding Britain was no big deal.

"Of course you did," Hermione replied, laughing again.

An old and very wrinkled man, who Hermione quickly deduced was the owner of the restaurant, appeared at their table moments later carrying what looked to be an incredibly expensive bottle of wine, lamenting loudly about how long it had been since Draco had visited. After nearly lifting Draco out of his chair to embrace him, the man turned to Hermione.

"And look, you brought a beautiful woman!" the man exclaimed, grinning widely.

"Erm, yes," Draco replied, his cheeks burning as his eyes settling on his date. "This is Hermione, my- um- friend."

"Friend, huh?" the man quipped, lifting an eyebrow suggestively.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Hermione cut in, saving Draco from the embarrassment of having to explain their – well, whatever their situation was.

"Watch out for this one," the old man said, leaning in to whisper in Hermione's ear as he shook her hand. "He's trouble."

Hermione blushed, her eyes flickering to Draco for a moment before returning her attention to the man. "Oh, I'm very well aware," she retorted, smiling broadly.

The man talked to the couple for a few more minutes, barely pausing to take a breath between words as he explained the details – which weren't, strictly speaking, legal – of how he'd managed to acquire such a magnificent bottle of wine, before a chef came running out of the kitchen requesting help with something. As he was ushered away, the old man instructed Draco and Hermione to order whatever they wanted.

"On the house!" he called over his shoulder as he disappeared.

"He's quite the character," Hermione told Draco once they were alone again. "Do I even want to know what he did to require your help?"

"Trust me," Draco said, chuckling softly, "you don't."

The pair finally turned their attention to the menus in front of them, which was both extravagant and mouthwatering, and in their mutual nervousness, they ordered entirely way too much food, but it gave them an excuse to talk as they waited for each course to arrive.

Hermione would have rather taken on a full-grown dragon than sit through a dinner with the pretentious, schoolboy Draco, but this new, matured Draco was not what she had expected. He was thoughtful and extremely easy to talk to, and she couldn't keep her damn eyes off of him. He didn't make excuses for or gloss over his past mistakes and had no issue explaining how his own ideals and philosophies had changed since Hogwarts. He described how sometime during his short-lived time as a Death Eater, it was as if a long malfunctioning light-switch switched on in his head and he was finally able to see beyond the views forced upon him by a lifetime among fanatical pure-bloods. He told her about his travels in the muggle world after the war, and Hermione was particularly shocked when he told her about his time working with his hands on a small farm. She found it hard to picture Malfoy – any Malfoy – living harmoniously (and willingly) with muggles, but it warmed her heart to hear how it helped shape him into the man sitting across from her now.

When the conversation shifted to her own life, she told Draco about what her childhood had been like before she knew she was a witch, before she got her letter to Hogwarts. Draco laughed particularly hard when she told him about the time she kept accidentally shrinking her father's shoes one day when she didn't want him to leave for work. She even told him how nervous she had been getting on the train for the first time at Platform 9¾ and how she had been so scared that she would never be able to compete with the students who had grown up in magical families.

As the night wore on, they became more comfortable with each other, telling each other even more personal stories about what had happened to them during and after the war. Draco admitted that he had barely spoken to his father since Voldemort's fall and that he had refused to take on the role as head of his family. Hermione surprised herself when she recounted how she, Harry, and Ron had hunted and destroyed Voldemort's Horcruxes before the final battle. And while neither of them broached the subject of what had happened to Hermione at Malfoy Manor, Hermione could sense Draco's discomfort each time one of their stories veered in the general direction of that day.

The talking was easy, almost as if they had been friends for years.

And Draco couldn't stop staring at her, not even when someone came to refill their wine or when a new course was placed in front of him. Her caramel-colored eyes drew him in, and he was finding it difficult to fight the urge to reach across the table to place a hand on one of her rosy cheeks. He always knew she was a brilliant witch, even at Hogwarts when he relentlessly teased her for her 'dirty' blood but sitting in front of her he realized he had never met anyone, witch or wizard, more brilliant than her. He was angry at himself for wasting so many years hating her, or at least convincing himself that he did, but perhaps it was always meant to happen this way. Perhaps he had needed to experience life without her to realize how much he needed her in it.

He was entranced, lost in her words as Hermione told her another story about Harry when the door to the restaurant opened, revealing two familiar faces.

 _Shit_ , he swore under his breath, tensing in his chair. Of all the restaurants in Britain, they had to walk into this one.

Hermione caught the look on Draco's face and followed his gaze to the front door.

Fuck, she thought.

It was Ron and Pansy. She quickly turned her face away from the door, hoping they wouldn't see her.

"Draco?" came a familiar shrill voice. "Is that you?"

_I swear to Merlin, if she comes over here and ruins this for me…_

Pansy, who had caught sight of Draco's unmistakable mane, sashayed over to the table with Ron in tow. Hermione watched, holding her breath, as the couple approached, wishing she could disappear into her chair.

The former queen of Slytherin had always been one of the prettier girls at Hogwarts, but now she looked like a damn super model, and Hermione shifted awkwardly in her seat, suddenly embarrassed at the simplicity of the white blouse and jeans she had changed into before leaving the Ministry. Pansy was dressed in a perfectly worn black leather jacket over a simple, silky black dress. The silhouette hugged her body perfectly and the hem fell tastefully near the middle of her calf. On her feet were a pair of leather mules. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun exposing a pair of large diamond earrings. But the worst of it wasn't how she was dressed, although that certainly didn't help. The worse of it was that Ron – Ron who used to be _her_ Ron – was Pansy's date.

Correction... fiancé.

"Draco, I thought it was you! And who is- " Pansy stopped mid-sentence when she recognized Hermione. "Oh, how cute!" she exclaimed. "Ron look, another Slytherin and Gryffindor couple. How wonderful."

Draco's jaw tightened.

"Hello, Pansy," he said quickly, trying to ignore the glare emanating from the red-haired man next to his old friend. "Weasley," he added quickly, his eyes flickering nervously back to Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but merely gaped, turning a bright shade of red, when he finally realized who was sitting across the table from Draco.

"Mione?" he said, clearly caught off guard.

 _Oh wonderful_ , Draco thought. _He still has a nickname for her._

The color drained from Hermione's face. "Hi, Ron," she said quietly.

Being this close to him was unsettling. It wasn't that he was different because Ron looked just like he always did, his hair untamed and his clothing worn with his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets. But she hadn't been this close to him since the breakup, and that realization was enough to make her stomach twist uncomfortably.

 _I need to get out of here_ , Hermione thought, her heartbeat quickening.

Pansy, who was still oblivious to the tension between the other three, turned to Draco and said, "You haven't sent me your RSVP, Draco. Tsk. Tsk."

Hermione could hear Draco offering Pansy some sort of excuse, but she was distracted by a ringing in her ears. She could feel Ron glaring at her, no doubt confused, but she couldn't find the words to speak to him.

"Mione, what are you doing with _him_?" Ron asked suddenly, not attempting to hide his irritation.

Draco clenched his fists under the table. He didn't like what Weasley was implying, and while he wasn't sure exactly what had happened between the two of them, he gathered that things hadn't ended well. He glanced over at Hermione, who had turned a sickly shade of green, and felt a wave of protectiveness come over him.

"We're working on an assignment together," Draco offered, pushing his anger aside. Hermione clearly wasn't handling the interaction well, and he needed to find a way to end the conversation quickly.

Ron snorted, and Pansy smacked him playfully across his chest.

"If by working you mean having a romantic dinner date," Ron mumbled.

"Be nice, Ronald." It seemed Pansy had finally caught whiff of the tension in the air, and she added, "I'm starving. We should leave Draco and Hermione to their... meeting."

Draco let out the breath he had been holding.

"Good to see you, Hermione," Pansy said as she pulled a grumbling Weasley away from the table. "Draco, I expect your RSVP promptly," she called as she walked back to the front of the restaurant. Pansy was always quick on the uptake, and for that Draco was grateful. He shifted his glance back to Hermione and could see that the color was still drained from her face.

"Draco," she whispered, when Pansy and Ron were finally out of earshot, "I need to get out of here."

He nodded and, despite being told he didn't need to pay for anything, threw some money on the table.

Hermione nearly ran out of the restaurant. Draco followed her as she sped out of the door and onto the sidewalk. When they were finally out of the view of the front windows, he grabbed her by the hand and stopped her, his eyes narrowed in concern.

"Hermione? Are-"

Hermione lifted her hand in the air, stopping him mid-sentence, and steadied herself by taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I owe you an explanation. I really shouldn't have reacted like that."

"Hermione, it's okay," he said, trying his best to remain calm despite the million questions running through his head. "You don't have to tell me anything. I can take you home if you'd like."

"I don't want to be alone. Please," she pleaded, her voice quiet.

She stared up at him with big eyes, her teeth chewing aggressively at her lower lip.

Draco sighed. "Okay. Where-?" But before he could finish his question, he felt the familiar tug of a side-along Apparition. They landed gracefully in front of a green door. _His door_.

Evidently, Hermione didn't want to go home tonight.

Draco opened the door and they walked silently inside, his eyes studying her as she wrung her hands together. He shut the door behind him and opened his mouth, one of his many questions perched on the edge of his tongue but swallowed it when he saw the look on her face.

"I need to show you something. I need you to understand," Hermione said quietly, her hands trembling at her sides. "Are you strong enough to use Legilimency? It'll be easier if I can show you."

"You want me to invade your mind?" Draco asked, taken aback by her question.

"Yes," she said, nodding.

"I'm not sure that's the best idea," he told her.

Draco wanted to know what was going on, but he was afraid he'd dig too far and find things she'd rather not be found. Worse, he was afraid he'd see things he'd rather not see.

"Please," she begged, refusing, despite her fear of what would happen next, to look away.

"Hermione- I-"

"Draco, please." Her voice was quiet but demanding.

He stared at her for a moment before speaking. "Okay," he relented finally, balancing his wand in the palm of his hand. "Focus on what you want me to see. I won't dig anywhere else. I promise."

"I'm ready," she assured him.

Draco nodded and swallowed heavily, closing his fist around his wand.

"Legilimens."

_The Battle of Hogwarts was over. They had won. Ron and Hermione were holding hands, walking outside the castle with Harry. They were talking about their future, about the things they wanted to do now that Voldemort was dead. They stood together looking back at the castle, sad for everyone they had lost but hopeful for the future._

_It was Fred's funeral. The Weasley's were huddled together, overcome with grief. Hermione took Ron's hand and held it tightly. Tears were running down her face._

_Hermione and Ron were moving things into their new flat. Ron dropped a box of things from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. A dung bomb went off, and Hermione frantically ran into the hall. Ron ran out after her and fell on the ground laughing. Hermione was pretending to be upset, but soon she was laughing too. When his fit of giggles ended, Ron pulled her into his arms and whispered into her ear, "I love you, Mione. Forever."_

_They were laying on a blanket in a field overlooking the Burrow, their hands intertwined as they watched the clouds move above them. The remains of their picnic were discarded to the side. Hermione rolled onto her side, and faced him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest under his shirt. He caught her eyes and smiled, pulling her into him._

_Harry and Ginny were enjoying their first dance. Ron and Hermione were watching while he hugged her from behind. He was humming happily in her ear, stopping every once in a while to place a soft kiss on her neck. She was blushing. They were so happy. The music changed and Ron dragged Hermione out on the dance floor. He twirled her around playfully, and they kissed. "I love you more than anything," he said. "I love you too. Forever," she responded._

_Hermione had accidentally snuck up behind Ron and Harry at work. Harry was asking Ron when he was going to do it, while Ron showed him a sapphire and diamond halo engagement ring. It was stunning. Hermione threw her hands over her mouth and backed away slowly._

The memories suddenly shifted.

_It was late. Ron stumbled in the front door. He was drunk. Hermione brought him some water and took him to bed. He was upset, still angry about Fred's death. She tried to comfort him, but he pushed her away. She listened helplessly as he cried himself to sleep. "I love you. Forever," she said quietly._

_There was a pile of empty bottles in the kitchen. Ron was yelling at her. Hermione was crying. He grabbed her by the arm, and shouted, "You don't get to be upset! I'm the one who lost a brother! You will never understand!" He stormed off to their room and slammed the door behind him. Hermione was left alone in their kitchen, locked out of her own bedroom. Locked away from him. She slid down onto the floor, hugged her knees into her chest, and wept._

_Ron had been missing for two days. Hermione was worried he was dead in an alley somewhere. She felt scared and alone but was too afraid to ask anyone for help. She was embarrassed at what they might say._

_An inebriated Ron was hurling insults at Hermione. She was pleading with him to stop, telling him he wouldn't be saying mean things to her if he wasn't so drunk. He laughed at her and called her horrible names. He kicked over the vase of flowers he had bought for her the previous day, and shattered the frame holding her favorite picture of them. Hermione cowered in the corner, watching him destroy mementos of their happy life together._

_Hermione was begging Ron to get help. Telling him that people loved him. He was angry with her for bringing it up, for insinuating that he had a problem. Suddenly he was yelling and calling her names. Tears were running down her face. He grabbed her and threw her against the wall. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. Her body was shaking with fear. Ron raised his arm, ready to strike…_

Draco pulled away, disgusted with what he had seen.

"HE HIT YOU!?" he shouted, his fists curled into tight balls.

"Nnn- no," Hermione stuttered, slightly surprised by his outburst, "You pulled away before you could see the end of the memory. He stopped himself, but- but I-" She dropped her head to her hands and began to cry.

Draco was fuming, but could see that she needed him, and so he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms.

"You thought he might," he finished for her, exhaling deeply. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

Hermione clung to his arms. She had spent so long blaming herself, embarrassed that she had let Ron treat her so horribly, that she hadn't been sure if she would ever tell anyone besides Harry and Ginny. It was a relief for someone else to know, for _him_ to know, but reliving those memories was more difficult than she had anticipated it would be.

As Draco held her against his chest, a terrible string of thoughts passed through his mind. _What if she still loved him? What if despite everything, she still wanted to be with him?_

"Do you- do you still love him?" Draco asked, his voice cracking as the words left his mouth. He held his breath, terrified of what she was going to say next.

"No," Hermione replied, looking up at him tentatively. She was surprised how quickly she answered, but it was the truth. "After what he did… how he treated me. No, I could never love him again."

Relief flooded into Draco's veins, and he let out the breath he had been holding.

"Tonight was the first time he's spoken to me since I ended things," she tried to explain. "He's never apologized to me, never acknowledged what he did. I'm sorry… I shouldn't have let it bother me so much. I let him ruin such a wonderful night. I'm so sorry," she finished, hiding her face against his chest. She was so afraid she had ruined things, that she had scared him away.

"Look at me, Hermione," Draco said softly, moving his hands to the side of her face.

Lifting her head, she complied, her hands still shaking against his arms.

"You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing," he asserted as he moved a thumb along her jaw. "He's the drunk. He's the one who hurt you. None of this is your fault," he continued, pushing the curls that had fallen in front of her face away from her eyes. "Hermione, you deserve better."

"I know," Hermione said boldly before wrapping her hands around the base of Draco's skull and pulling his mouth into hers.

Draco couldn't resist her. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should pull away and make sure she was okay before they went any further, but he was at the mercy of the part of his brain that wanted to taste her again and he couldn't stop. One of his hands was buried in her soft curls, while the other drew her closer to him by the small of her back. He could feel her hands tugging at the nape of his neck, begging him to deepen their kiss, and he obliged.

Hermione let out a small moan as she felt his tongue trace her lower lip, and she parted her lips to let his tongue explore her mouth. The slow, methodical movements of his tongue on hers made her legs quiver, and with her remaining sanity, she realized that this was the type of thing that made people believe in soulmates. She could taste the chocolate of their dessert on his tongue, but there was also a hint of something else. _Spearmint_ , she thought. He was intoxicating, and she didn't care how ridiculous she looked as she threw herself farther against him, she wanted – no, she needed more.

Slowly, she moved her hands from where they were wrapped around his neck to his chest where they began to explore his Quidditch-toned body. The rapid pounding of his heart triggered a familiar rush of warmth deep inside her, and she bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to silence her growing whimpers.

Draco let out a low growl and without interrupting their kiss, lifted Hermione off the ground and threw her against the wall. She moaned as he deepened their kiss and eagerly wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers clawing at the back of his neck as if she was scrambling for some sort of purchase. Knowing he wouldn't be able to control himself if they stayed where they were, he pulled her off the wall and walked them slowly into his bedroom, careful not to disturb her position against his body or the frantic clashing of their tongues. When he finally felt the edge of the mattress against the front of his knees, he dropped her on the bed below him and took a small step back.

Hermione breathed heavily as Draco loomed over her, frustrated that her hands had been torn away from his body. She hadn't wanted him to pull away, but she had to admit that she was enjoying the view. His stormy grey eyes were sparkling with need and desire, and he was panting, his cheeks flushed with color as if he had just finished a jog. It was reassuring to see him like this because she didn't doubt for a second that he could see her thirst for him written all over her face.

"Draco," she whispered, her eyes traveling hungrily over him.

The look in her face was all Draco needed to continue, and he brought his mouth back to hers and moved his hands below her shirt, running his fingers slowly from the flat of her stomach to the cups of her bra. Her nipples hardened immediately under the soft fabric, and he let a small smile escape his lips before he moved his mouth down to her neck. She threw her head back in response and let out a series of moans as he kissed and sucked his way to the sensitive spot behind her ear.

Still attached to her neck, he grabbed at her blouse, and in one swift movement, ripped it from her body, ignoring the buttons that flew across the room. He pulled away, licking his lips as he let his gaze fall to the white lace that covered her breasts. The sight of her below him, staring up at him with big eyes, her pupils blown wide and her breathing labored, was almost more than he could bear, and he quickly threw his mouth back against hers, pushing his body into her. Another growl escaping his lips as she rolled her hips against his erection, and it took all his willpower to not tear the rest of their clothing off and take her right then and there. But she deserved more than a quick fuck, and he was going to make sure she enjoyed every minute of their time together.

While Hermione continued to relish the feeling of his soft lips under her tongue, Draco undid the clasp at the back of her bra and quickly peeled the lace off her body, his thumbs brushing teasingly against her nipples before momentarily pulling away.

"Beautiful," Draco mumbled, his eyes drinking in the sight below him. "So fucking, beautiful."

Hermione shuddered when he moved his hands to the side of her face and began kissing her with a renewed frenzy, his tongue taking ownership of her mouth. A primal urge took over and she moved her hands to the hem of his shirt, eager to uncover what was hiding underneath. Draco lifted his arms to aid in the process, breaking their kiss so that she could quickly pull his shirt over his head.

At the sight of his bare chest, Hermione thought she might lose her mind. Draco looked as if he had been carved from a beautiful piece of marble, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she imagined how exquisite the rest of his body would look when she finally got the rest of his clothes off. She barely had time to take it all in before he leaned her back on the bed and shifted his body over hers, their naked skin inches away from each other as he began kissing her again. She wanted to feel his chest on hers and moved her arms to pull him down on top of her, but he resisted, smirking against her lips when she groaned in protest.

While one hand held him upright, the other began kneading her naked breast gently in his palm. She moaned into his mouth, and he responded by pushing his hips against hers, his erection straining against his trousers. Electricity shot through his body as she responded by grinding her hips against him, her touch arousing him more than he imagined was possible. He moved his hand to her nipple and rolled her pink bud expertly between his fingers, causing her to arch involuntarily off the bed. He repeated his movements with her other breast, taking his time and enjoying the nonsensical noises she was breathing into his mouth.

"Merlin, what are you doing to me?" Hermione breathed, gasping for air.

Pleased with the effect he was having on her, Draco kissed his way from her cheeks to her neck, pausing to nibble softly at her jawline. He could feel her shuddering with bliss underneath him, and it made him even harder.

 _Fuck, I want her_.

He moved his mouth slowly down to her chest, teasing her with his tongue by pausing at random spots along the way. When he reached the canyon between her breasts, he traced his tongue between them before he closed his lips over her hardened nipple. His tongue swirled around the bud before his teeth began nibbling it softly, and she moaned in response. He shifted his eyes upwards as he worked, catching a glance of the pleasure on Hermione's face. Her eyes wide, and her hair splayed out in a circle around her head. He smiled again, humming in approval, and moved his tongue slowly to her other breast.

"You're delicious," Draco mumbled before closing his mouth around the neglected nipple and sucking it in.

Hermione could feel her arousal soaking her knickers. She knew she was moaning uncontrollably, begging him for more, but she couldn't stop. His tongue was doing things to her that she couldn't explain, and he hadn't even made it to the sensitive mound pounding with anticipation below the restricting fabric of her jeans. Impatient to get him naked, she moved her hands to the waist of his trousers and tugged blindly at the button. When it came undone, she pulled down the zipper and pushed the fabric down as low as she could from her position below him. She felt Draco shimmy and kick them the rest of the way off before he settled his hips back close to her body and moved his mouth back to her lips. She reached between their bodies and greedily began to explore his brief-covered hardened length.

Draco sucked in a breath when he felt her hands against his erection, and after a few strokes of her hand, he lost his concentration and pulled away from her with a feral look in his eyes. He couldn't wait any longer; he needed to get her naked. Quickly, he peeled off Hermione's jeans, so that the only remaining barrier between them was two thin pieces of fabric, and he threw his hips back against hers, his body shivering at the closeness of their bodies. Wanting more, he shifted his hips slightly and moved his hand over Hermione's knickers to cup between her legs.

"Fuck," he hissed when he felt how soaked the delicate fabric was.

He ran his fingers over the wet fabric, teasing her, before finally hooking a finger under the tiny waistband and pulling them off. Draco sucked in a breath when he saw how perfect she looked laying below him completely naked, her arousal already dripping out of her. He crashed his mouth back into hers and moved his hand back down to her center, her hips involuntarily rising to meet his hand, and he dipped two fingers into her wet folds, his fingers teasing her entrance.

Hermione could barely breathe. "Oh Merlin… Draco…. please."

Draco happily acquiesced and pushed his fingers inside her, moving them in and out slowly as she gasped in pleasure. Curling his fingers slightly, he shifted his attention to the spot inside of her he knew would drive her just the right amount of crazy and smiled when she called out his name again. Her hips began rocking slightly to meet his fingers as they moved, and he could feel her insides beginning to tighten around him. It was exhilarating to feel her squirming at his touch, and he began to pick up speed, her growing moans echoing across the room. Finally, he brought his thumb to her clit and began to rub small, purposeful circles over it causing her hips to jerk involuntarily.

"Draco! Don't stop!"

Hermione was coming undone, and he was doing it with just his fingers. She was mumbling his name, barely aware of her surroundings, while he moved his lips to her neck, sucking at her pulse. The intensity was building, she could feel the tingling of an oncoming orgasm, and she felt as if she might explode any second. But just when she thought she might, he stopped and pulled his mouth away from behind her ear. She was about to protest when she felt his lips and tongue traveling down her body once again. He paused at her breasts, swirling his tongue around each nipple, causing her to cry out again in pleasure, and then continued down toward her navel. Pausing again right above her mound, his warm breath tickled her and sent a shiver down her spine. She barely had a moment to compose herself before his fingers were back inside of her, moving in and out methodically, and then his tongue moved over her most sensitive spot, and she nearly screamed.

His tongue danced around her swollen clit, and he curled his fingers perfectly to stroke the place inside her that made her body tingle, every single one of his movements encouraging her body to lose control. It didn't take long before her legs began to shake, her body teetering on the edge of madness. She could hear herself moaning incoherently, but what he was doing with his fingers and his mouth was like nothing she had ever experienced before; it was pure ecstasy.

"Oh god. Draco. Yes!"

Hermione's vision blurred, her body suddenly overcome as she toppled over the edge. Her limbs shook uncontrollably as the waves of her orgasm washed over her body, leaving her weak and gasping for air. The shock of it seemed to go on forever, but as finally she came back down, she blinked her eyes open and felt him wrap his arms around her waist.

Slowly, Draco kissed his way back up her body and stopped to look into her eyes, burying a hand in her curls. He licked his lips, enjoying the taste of her on them, and then bent down to kiss her, his erection still straining against his briefs. Hermione purred into his mouth, enjoying his tongue moving against hers first softly and then frantically, and moved her fingers to the waistband of his briefs. She traced her fingers along his hips before he reached down and removed the only remaining barrier between them. His cock fell onto her stomach, and he shivered as her hand closed over his erection and slowly began moving up and down its length.

She teased him, their mouths still attached, until he couldn't take it any longer. He dropped a hand in between her legs, and dipped two fingers into her wet folds, and she responded by lifting her hips upwards, forcing his fingers to move deeper.

"Draco," Hermione whispered. "I need you."

Her words lit a fire in him. He removed his fingers from inside her and positioned himself at her entrance, teasing her as he moved the head of his cock in small circles between her folds.

"Draco-"

With a quick turn of his hips, he plunged into her.

"Fuck," he hissed.

Hermione let out a loud gasp at the feeling of him finally being deep inside her and moved her head so she could stare into his eyes. His eyelids were heavy with desire, but he met her gaze, unable to take his eyes off of her. He stayed still for a moment before he began moving in and out of her at a snail's pace, giving her just enough of him to make her beg for more. Her muscles tightened reflexively around him as he moved, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. He fit inside of her perfectly, teasing parts of her she didn't even know were there. Even though she knew he could send her over the edge just like this, slowly and methodically, she wanted their first time to be passionate and powerful.

"Draco. Faster. Please," she begged.

He grinned and quickened his pace, their bodies coming together roughly with each of his thrusts. Being inside of her was better than magic, his cock lost in the most wonderful wet, velvety cavern. He was close, oh so close, and beads of sweat began to drip down his forehead as he fought to hold off his release. He wanted, no, he needed to see her come undone again. His legs were tiring from his rapid thrusts, but when she began to shake under his body, it re-energized him. Suddenly, she lifted her mouth to his and bit hard down into his lower lip.

Draco growled.

He began to move even faster as Hermione's moans turned into small screams. She was repeating his name over and over again, and it was driving him crazy. His movements became more frenzied as she scraped her nails down his back, and he ignored the dull pain where she broke the skin. Her insides were twitching around him as she began to lose control of her body once again.

"Draco! Oh god, Draco!" Hermione screamed as she tightened around him, her body convulsing under the grips of her second climax.

"Fuck, Hermione!" Draco groaned as her trembling muscles milked his own orgasm out of him, his body shuddering above her as he emptied himself inside of her.

After a few moments, Draco rolled his body over next to Hermione's and pulled her close to him, his heart still beating furiously. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin in her tangle of curls, while she wrapped a leg around his upper thigh. He could feel her eyelids fluttering against his skin as she tried to fight the exhaustion creeping over her body, and it made him smile. She turned to look at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a soft kiss, his fingers resting on her chin.

"Granger," he murmured, "You can talk my ear off about this when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fans self.


	6. Pillow Talk and Memory Charms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - PILLOWTALK by Zayn, Begin Again by Purity Ring, and Howlin' For You by The Black Keys

Hermione woke up to the sound of Draco's steadily beating heart. Her head was nestled against his chest as if in her sleep her unconscious had decided that their bodies weren't quite close enough, and as unbelievable and shocking as this entire scenario would have been to her a few short weeks ago, nothing about it felt strange. Waking up next to Draco felt more natural than it had ever felt with anyone else.

And that had to mean something.

Right?

She didn't want to get up, not yet, not when his arms were still wrapped so tightly around her, and she lay there for a few minutes enjoying the warmth of his body against hers. When she finally turned to look up at his face, hoping to catch a glimpse of him still deep in sleep, she found herself drowning in the depths of the most perfect quicksilver eyes.

"Hello, beautiful," Draco said, making her blush.

"Mmmm," she mumbled, trying to hide her face. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A few hours," he told her, burying a hand in her curls. "You looked so peaceful. I didn't want to disturb you."

"You've been awake all this time?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Yes," he replied, smiling as his eyes moved over her face. "Kind of difficult to doze off when you've got an amazing, naked witch next to you in bed."

"Oh… well, thank you."

"Granger, are you thanking me for letting you sleep?" Draco chuckled as he continued to play with her curls.

"I guess so," she offered, eyeing him innocently. "I suppose I needed the rest. You sure know how to wear a girl out."

"I would say I'm sorry for that, but I'm definitely not."

They both laughed.

"If anyone should apologize for anything, it should be me," Hermione began, tracing her fingers along Draco's chest. "I practically attacked you."

"Granger," Draco groaned, his cock twitching below the sheet. "You can attack me like that anytime you want."

Hermione smiled. "I think I'll have to take you up on that," she declared, biting on her lower lip before releasing it and moving her mouth to his neck. She whimpered softly when she felt him shiver at her touch, unable to hide how much his reaction to her turned her on. It was almost too much, and yet she couldn't get enough.

Draco groaned as one of her hands moved down his stomach. He hadn't been this comfortable around anyone in years, and as unnerving and surprising as it was, he wanted more. Of everyone he knew from his days at Hogwarts, she probably had the longest list of reasons to hate him, yet for some reason she was willing to overlook his stupid childhood behavior and see him for who he'd become. It didn't make sense why she wanted to be around him, or sleep with him for that matter, but he was happy that she did.

"Hermione," he said quietly, suddenly realizing that he had never really apologized to her despite everything they had talked about at dinner. "I'm- I'm so sorry for how I used to treat you. I'm probably the last person who deserves your attention after everything I've done, so thank you for giving me a chance."

"You're not the same person you were, Draco," Hermione said, pulling away so that she could face him, her toffee colored eyes sparkling in the moonlight that was spilling into the room. "I wouldn't be here if you were."

She moved a hand to his left forearm and felt him inhale sharply as she ran her fingers over the faded mark, the shapes, once bold and terrifying, now barely perceptible against his pale skin.

"Just because I've changed doesn't mean I deserve anyone's forgiveness," he said, watching as her hand moved to cover the evidence his biggest mistake. "It definitely doesn't mean that I deserve _you_."

Hermione sighed. "I forgave you the moment I woke up in this bed and realized you took care of me even when you had no reason to. Not many people would do that for someone they weren't particularly close to already," she said, moving her hand from his arm to the side of his face. "And as for who deserves me… well despite my past blunders on the matter, I think I'm perfectly capable of making that decision for myself."

Hermione cringed when she heard herself say the last bit. _Do I always have to be so bloody difficult?_

"Yes, you most certainly are," Draco smiled and turned to kiss her the palm of her hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean for that to sound so harsh. I just meant that I would like a say in whether you deserve me or not," she explained.

"Granger don't apologize for being headstrong. I quite like you that way," Draco said before hoisting her further up his body and gently pulling her mouth back against his own.

He kissed her softly, moving his tongue slowly against hers with a gentleness that assured her that he wanted more than a one night tryst, that he wanted all of her. The taste of him made her insides quiver, and she realized, far too late she might add, that resisting the fall – the fall for him, for whatever this was – would be futile. She was free-falling without a chute, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

 _We'll never get anything done if he makes me feel like this all the time_ , Hermione thought as she felt the familiar twinge of longing in her core.

But after a few moments, she managed to pull herself away. She had something she wanted to say, and she needed to say it before his tongue distracted her any further.

"Thank you for everything you did at dinner. And after when I- well, when I showed you my memories," Hermione said, stumbling over her words.

Draco remained quiet for a moment admiring the golden flecks in her big brown eyes. They had both been so eager to jump into each other's arms that they hadn't talked much about what she had shown him. He didn't regret any of it, but as the images of what Ron had done to her flashed in his brain, he became worried that he had taken advantage of the situation.

"There's nothing to apologize for," Draco responded, moving his thumb to brush across her lips. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Why have you kept his behavior a secret all these years?"

As awkward as he felt bringing up her abusive, alcoholic ex-boyfriend while lying in bed naked with her, Draco knew they needed to talk about it before things went any further between the two of them. He needed to make sure she wanted _him_ , but not him for the sake of making Ron jealous.

"Would you want the world to know that you let someone you loved treat you the way he treated me?" Hermione asked quietly.

She hadn't answered his question, but he understood her point. Living in the spotlight had likely been difficult for her after the war, and so it was understandable that she would want to keep personal matters private and out of the news. He had certainly done his fair share of hiding from public view and could sympathize with her reluctance to share this humiliating and heartbreaking aspect of her life with anyone.

"No, I suppose I wouldn't," he offered. "But for the record, I don't think he deserves that sort of kindness."

"Perhaps not," Hermione replied. It wasn't in her nature to be vindictive, and while she knew Ron needed to take ownership for his mistakes, she would never forgive herself if she forced him to do it by going public with their past.

"It's humiliating how long I let things drag on and how I let him treat me," she continued before she lost her nerve. "I knew things wouldn't end well, but for some reason I couldn't admit it was over. I kept telling myself that he didn't mean to hurt me, that he'd get better once he dealt with the loss of his brother. I was naive… I should have left sooner."

Hermione started to bite furiously at her lower lip and averted her eyes as she tried to brush the painful memories aside.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," he said quickly, sensing her discomfort. "I just want to make sure that I didn't take advantage of you, that you actually wanted me. You were so upset after seeing him at dinner. I was worried-"

"Draco, I wanted you," Hermione affirmed, her eyes flickering back to his own. "I can't explain it, but I've wanted you since the morning I woke up hungover in this bed with your perfect eyes reading me like a goddamn book," she paused, taking a deep breath before mustering the courage to continue. "And I still want you."

Whatever Draco had expected her to say, it hadn't been this, and he swallowed heavily at the realization that she – Hermione fucking Granger – actually fucking meant it. While their mutual attraction to each other had been obvious in the days since he had pulled her away from the road and brought her to his flat, he never really thought she'd want him, that she'd ever really consider being with him. He opened his mouth to tell her as much, but before he could, she was speaking again.

"I'm sorry I didn't really give you a chance to digest what I showed you. I shared my memories with you because-" she stopped, taking another deep breath, "well, because I knew that if I didn't I would continue pretending nothing had happened and that everything was okay. I knew you would see right through it, and I was worried that would jeopardize anything ever happening between us. When you told me that I deserved better… well I sort of lost control of myself. I'm sorry."

She tried to bury her face against Draco's chest, embarrassed that she was getting so emotional around him again, but he moved his hand to her chin and turned her face back towards him.

"Hermione, you really need to stop apologizing," Draco said, his piercing eyes studying her with an intensity that took her breath away. "If I have to, I will keep reminding you that none of this is your fault until you actually believe it. And you won't get rid of me that easily," he promised, burying a hand at the back of her head. "My life has been exponentially better with you in it this last few days than it has been in a long time, and even though I don't think I deserve you after all the horrible things I've done, I'm not dumb enough to run away from all of this."

Draco leaned down and kissed her, his tongue parting her lips greedily.

"I promise I'll stop asking you about it now," Draco told her, pulling away, his fingers running softly down the back of her neck. "You deserve better than your past, Hermione."

It was like he knew she needed to hear him say those words again, the same words she repeated to herself over and over, and something came over her.

"So do you," Hermione said as she shifted her body upright, letting the sheet slide off her body. She bit her bottom lip as Draco's stormy eyes widened.

"Granger are you trying to kill me?" he asked, gesturing wildly at her state of undress. He was laughing, but she could see the effect her naked body was having on him through the thin sheet, and it was exactly what she had been hoping for.

"Yes," she replied with a smirk before ripping the sheet off of Draco's body.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Hermione climbed on top of him, her legs straddling his hips as she stared down at him lustfully. They had plenty of time to discuss things later, but right now she wanted him, and she couldn't wait any longer. She shifted up slightly on her knees and took his hardened length in her hand, guiding it to her entrance which was already slick with her arousal.

 _A girl wants what a girl wants,_ she thought as she impaled herself on him.

Draco inhaled sharply, surprised at the sudden feeling of his cock sheathed deep inside of her, and moved his hands to her hips as she began to move on top of him. Her movements were slow and deliciously punishing, her body pulling away almost to the point where he'd fall out of her before pushing herself back down on top of him, and he couldn't get enough.

"Fuck, Hermione," he hissed, his chest heaving. "You definitely will kill me if you keep teasing me like that."

Hermione smiled wickedly. She liked being in control, that wasn't a new revelation, but being in control with him... well, it felt extraordinary. She especially enjoyed being able to watch Draco's eyes roll back into his head with each of her slow, tortuous movements, his hands gripping her hips tightly as if he was afraid that he'd lose her if he let go. When a deep growl escaped his lips, she finally picked up the speed, bracing her arms on his shoulders as she moved on top of him.

Draco couldn't breathe. He could barely think, but somehow in his fog, his fingers found their way to her clit.

"Oh god, Draco," Hermione moaned, throwing her head back as the pleasure from his touch washed over her.

Draco watched in awe as she continued to dance on top of him, her muscles tightening around him as he began to meet each of her movements with an upward thrust of his own. The sight of her breasts bouncing up and down was mesmerizing, and when she moved her hands to play with her nipples, he nearly lost control. He locked yees with her, and she licked her lips seductively almost as if she was daring him to make her scream.

He growled at the sight above him, both unable and unwilling to hold back, and began rubbing her clit more vigorously.

"Fuck," she breathed.

Hermione was so close – Merlin, was she close – and was moving frantically on top of him as the familiar tug of an oncoming orgasm flooded her veins. She locked eyes with the man below her, grasping for something, anything that would keep her sane for a little longer, but the hungry look in his eyes was too much. A shiver suddenly reverberated down her spine, her legs barely capable of holding her up anymore as the tingling expanded outward, and she knew it was over. She didn't take her eyes off him as she climaxed, her mouth wide as as the waves of pleasure washed over her body.

Draco held her body up as it crumbled bonelessly on top of him. He continued to move in and out of her slowly as she came down, grunting with the effort it took to stave off his own orgasm as she twitched around him. When her eyes finally fluttered open again, he finally took control, flipping her on her back and thrusting himself quickly back inside of her. He paused only long enough for her to wrap her legs around him, digging her heels into his arse to pull him closer, before he began moving with a renewed frenzy. And when she whispered softly in his ear that she wanted him to come, he smiled and picked up his pace, losing himself the sound and feeling of their bodies coming together as he repeatedly buried himself deep inside of her. It only took a minute before he met his own triumphant finish, and her name escaped his lips in what sounded almost like a reverent chant as he spilled himself inside of her.

He didn't pull out right away, and she was happy he didn't. They stared at each other, his body hovering above hers, both realizing that this thing they just did (twice) was only the beginning, that there was something between them that neither of them had experienced before. They definitely didn't need months to figure out if this felt right. It just did.

When they finally pulled apart, they were only separated for a moment before crawling under the covers and curling their sweaty bodies together. They didn't talk. They didn't need to. Instead, they fell asleep holding each other tightly, neither willing or wanting to let the other go.

* * *

"Hermione?"

Hermione was sitting across from Harry in his office, but the images of the things she'd done with Draco two nights ago had distracted her from their conversation.

"Sorry, Harry. Just a little tired," she said, risking a glance at Draco who was standing with his arms crossed on the other side of the room. His features were, as always, difficult to read, but she thought she could see a hint of amusement in his eyes before she turned back to look at Harry.

"As I was saying," Harry continued, looking between Draco and Hermione. "I know what happened last time wasn't… ideal, but I need you two to return to the boy. We really need his memories."

"Harry," Hermione said sharply, her eyes narrowing. "I told you I will not allow you to send Draco to look at the boy's memories again."

"And I'm not asking him to," Harry replied, trying his best to ignore the menacing look in her eyes. "He will assist you in your attempts to reverse whatever memory charm has been placed on the boy."

Harry, who was used to Hermione's stubbornness and predisposition to protect others, sensed there was something else going on that he wasn't privy to, but almost shook his head at the ridiculousness of the idea of Hermione and Draco's relationship being anything other than professional. No, she was simply just concerned for her coworker's well-being. There was definitely no way that they were involved in any way outside of work.

Although… Hermione certainly had never used Draco's first name in front of him before.

"Fine," Hermione relented reluctantly, still glaring at Harry. "But if I find out that you two have some secret agreement to have Draco search his memories without my knowledge, I will hex you both so badly that it hurts to sit down for weeks," she added threateningly, pointing between the two men.

"I promise, that is not what's happening here," Harry tried to assure her, leaning back slightly in his chair. It was the second time she had threatened him over Draco's safety in almost as many days, and if he wanted to retain use of all of his limbs, it was clear that he was going to have to tread carefully with her.

Draco remained silent throughout the entire conversation, holding his arms across his chest as he tried to keep his eyes glued on anything but _her_. It was taking all of his willpower to keep himself from walking over to Hermione and wrapping his arms around her, telling her not to worry about him, promising her that everything would be fine. Her protectiveness was certainly endearing, but if she wasn't careful, people would start to wonder about them.

 _Not that I would mind people knowing_ , he thought as he glanced over at her, hoping that Harry was too far away to notice the longing in his eyes.

Before calling Hermione to his office, Harry had asked Draco if he'd be willing to endure the boy's memory of Rodolphus again if the research into the strange tree ended fruitlessly, and he'd said yes. Not because he was particularly excited about the prospect of experiencing the pain for a third time, but because he knew how badly the Aurors needed to find Rodolphus before he hurt anyone else. He would worry about Hermione's threat if and when they crossed that bridge. It would most likely take the research team quite some time to scour the Ministry's large collection of texts anyways, and he knew Harry wouldn't send him to try again until that the research was complete.

Hermione looked back and forth between the two men trying to decide if Harry was telling the truth. Harry's eyes were darting around nervously, an obvious sign that he was likely only giving her part of the story, but other than the slight purse of Draco's lips, which she grudgingly admitted was as likely to be due to nerves at being so close to her again at work as it was to be a secret he was hiding, he appeared as cool as a cucumber.

She sighed, resigning to the fact that whether she believed Harry or not, she was going to return to St. Mungo's to help the boy. Besides, she could always get the information out of Draco later - and although she doubted she would need to resort to anything quite as scandalous, she could always catch him off guard the next time she managed to separate him from his clothing.

"We should get going," Draco finally spoke, unfolding his arms as he looked over at Harry. He hoped it was enough for Harry to get the message that they were playing a dangerous game.

Hermione, as anxious as she was to get out of Harry's office, stood up out of her chair and nodded before moving toward the door.

"I know it will likely take some time, but if you discover anything new, let me know," Harry told them, his fingers tapping lightly against the worn edges of his desk as he smiled at his friends.

Draco paused, acknowledged Harry's words with a quick nod before pulling open the door and ushering Hermione out of the office.

"Granger," he whispered in her ear as they made their way down the hall. "We really need to work on your poker face. If Potter wasn't so preoccupied, he'd easily be able to figure out what's going on between us."

Hermione blushed. She had never been very good at hiding her emotions, especially around Harry, and she found it particularly difficult to do with Draco in the same room as her.

"I know," she said quietly. "To be fair, you're very distracting."

Hermione wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his body and kiss him, but this was all still very new to her and she wasn't quite sure she was ready for anyone else to know just yet. Embarrassment wasn't the issue. She would have gladly snogged Draco in front of the Minister himself if she knew they would still be able to go about their lives peacefully afterwards, but having a secret as delicious as the one she shared with Draco was undeniably newsworthy, and once one person knew, it wouldn't be long before their relationship, or whatever it was they were doing, was plastered on the front page of every newspaper. So, for the moment, she was happy to walk along next to him silently if it meant being able to keep things to themselves for just a little longer.

When they reached the Ministry's Apparition point, Draco quickly intertwined his fingers around hers and Disapparated them together. It was a small gesture, one that no one else would have thought meant anything at all, but Hermione still found herself smiling like a young schoolgirl as they landed in front of the abandoned warehouse. His hand tightened around hers as they walked toward the entrance, only letting go when they crossed the threshold into the first floor of St. Mungo's.

Once inside, they quickly made their way up to the boy's room, passing by the eager receptionist without a second look and moving quickly up the stairs to the fourth floor. Despite the presence of the guard outside the room, Draco still locked the door. He knew their task wasn't going to be easy on Hermione, and he wanted to make sure that she wouldn't be disturbed.

"Harry asked you to look at the memory again if I failed, didn't he?" Hermione asked quietly as Draco moved beside her, deciding now was as good a time as any to strike.

"Hermione, I-"

"I know Harry still thinks he can trick me, but I've known him for long enough to know when he's lying to me."

Draco sighed, accepting that nothing good would come from continuing to hide the truth from her. "Yes," he admitted, frowning slightly. "He asked me if I'd be willing to search the memory again, but not if you failed. He asked me to try again if the research team can't find a reference to the tree in any of the Ministry's texts." He paused for a moment, his eyes falling on her hands that were now balled tightly at her sides. "It'll take ages to sort through all of those books. You don't need to worry about anything happening to me today. I promise," he added softly, hoping she wasn't quite as angry as she looked.

Hermione was quiet for a moment. She appreciated his honesty – she really did – but she was furious that once again Harry and Draco had made important decisions without her. It wasn't just annoying; it was disrespectful.

"Fine," she said flatly after a moment, deciding to save that argument for another day. It had probably been Harry's call after all, and getting angry with Draco wasn't going to make their job any easier. "Since we haven't ruled out any of the simpler counter-spells, I'll try starting with those," she explained, slipping her wand out of her pocket as she quickly switched gears. "I doubt this will be that easy, but I'll need to eliminate them before we move on to anything else." She stopped, casting her eyes downward as she fidgeted nervously with her wand.

It hadn't actually occurred to her until they arrived that, since the boy was being kept in a deep, dreamless sleep, someone would need to look into his mind periodically to check if anything had worked. Seeing as Legilimency was a skill she definitely did not possess, that meant that Draco, once again, was going to have to put himself at risk, and it made her heart ache with worry.

"Unfortunately," she continued, unable to look him, "I won't know if anything's worked definitively unless..." She swallowed heavily.

"Unless I peer into his mind between each spell," Draco finished for her.

"Yes," she whispered, finally lifting her head and looking at him tentatively. "I'm sorry," she added quickly, her voice quavering as she spoke.

Draco exhaled deeply, and a flash of fear crossed his eyes as he brought his hand to the back of his neck. "It's fine," he told her. "I shouldn't have a problem avoiding the memory that's already there," he stated simply. _I just bloody hope I won't find any more torture buried in there._

"What if you taught me how to do it instead?" she asked, thinking furiously of a way she could protect him. "I'm a quick learner, I could-" But Draco was already shaking his head.

"No," he interrupted, letting his hand fall back to his side. "I don't doubt your abilities, but it takes time to learn how to read someone's mind, even more to master the art of it completely, and you and I both know that's time we don't have."

"But, I-"

"I won't linger," he promised, taking a step toward her, his hand reaching out to rest on her cheek. "If I see anything new, I'll pull away and wait to dig any deeper until we have backup."

Hermione shuddered at his touch, letting her eyes close as his fingers grazed delicately across her skin. "Okay," she said finally, sighing as she slowly opened her eyes.

As they repositioned themselves near the boy's bed, Draco reached for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly before giving her the space she needed to concentrate. "Ready whenever you are, Granger," he said softly.

Hermione, bolstered by his words, nodded and lifted her wand to cast the first spell. She paused after the words passed her lips and watched as Draco used his own wand to enter the boy's mind, hoping for once in her life, something could be easier than she feared, but when his eyes refocused, he quickly shook his head. Simple, it seemed, was far too much to ask for today. Brushing aside her disappointment, she moved on to the next spell, which unsurprisingly, was as unfruitful as the first.

They continued their little dance, Hermione casting a spell and then pausing to allow Draco to check for new memories, each failure weighing heavily on her mind. She tried not to think about her parents, but everything about the process felt so eerily similar. No matter how hard she had tried, they never remembered, so why had she expected it to be any different with the boy?

After nearly an hour, her frustration bubbled over, and she threw her wand angrily on the ground, surprising Draco who was still standing quietly beside her. Wanting to comfort her, he placed a hand on the small of her back, his fingers moving small, calming circles. He had been studying her as she worked, trying to keep himself from interrupting as he sensed her agitation growing with each failed spell, but it was obvious by the way she had just discarded her wand that she needed to take a break.

"Hermione," he said softly, his hand still moving against her back, "I think you should rest for a minute."

His voice snapped her out of her trance, and she looked up at him as he pulled her into him, his grey eyes swirling with worry. _Why did those eyes have to be so damned beautiful?_ Despite her frustration, she began to relax in his arms, the scent and feel of his body soothing her weary mind.

"If you write me a list of spells you haven't tried, I can take over for a bit," Draco offered as he placed a kiss on the top of her head.

Hermione nodded slowly. She reluctantly removed herself from his embrace and pulled out a piece of parchment from inside her robes.

Draco's eyebrows rose as she handed him the paper. "Have you been reciting this list from memory?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," she replied, smiling weakly. "I memorized them before my first attempt at restoring my parents' memories." She paused, cringing as she thought back to that day. "You can start from the bottom of the list, I only made it about halfway through."

Hermione bent over to pick up her wand and then sat down in a chair near the bed, watching as Draco took over for her, levitating the list in front of him. The muscles in his back flexed each time he moved his wand to perform a new spell, and despite the seriousness of their task, she found herself daydreaming about how her hands would look traveling down them the next time she got him naked. Her mouth began to water as she imagined scenario after scenario – Draco naked in the shower, Draco naked in the woods, Draco naked in her Ministry office – and soon she was biting down hard on her lower lip to keep herself from whimpering out loud. Merlin, she wanted him naked, and she wanted him naked everywhere.

_Fuck._

"You're doing it again," Draco said, smirking as he looked down at Hermione.

She had clearly been enjoying something – memories of him he hoped – and he hadn't really wanted to shake her out of whatever was distracting her, but they really did have a job to do.

"Oh, sorry," Hermione said, quickly releasing her lower lip, her cheeks suddenly burning with embarrassment. "Anything work?" she asked, trying to ignore the images of a very naked Draco still dancing around in her brain.

He shook his head. "I think we can eliminate all of these," he said holding up the parchment.

"I wasn't really expecting any of them to work," Hermione admitted sadly, her frustration successful, at least for the moment, at refocusing her scattered thoughts.

"We had to start somewhere," Draco replied calmly. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I know. It's just- I've been through this so many times with my parents," she tried to explain. "I was the one to alter their memories, but I still haven't managed to reverse the spell. How am I supposed to reverse a memory charm used on the boy when I don't even know how his memories were removed?" She rubbed her eyes, trying to hide the stupid tears that were rising to the surface.

Draco, not knowing what to say, bent over and wrapped a hand around hers. She had done what was necessary, like most people during the war, but he couldn't help but feel that her sacrifice had been worse than most. Knowing that her parents may never remember her, she sent them away to protect them without a second thought to herself. _She's always been like that_ , Harry had said. _Always protecting everyone but herself._

"Hermione, we will figure this out. I may not be as skilled as you in memory charms, but I've had my fair share of practice altering people's memories," he said, moving his hands to the back of her neck. He wasn't particularly proud of how he'd gained experience creating false memories, but many of the skills he'd gained as a Death Eater had proven particularly useful during his time as an Auror, and this was no different. "Harry isn't expecting us to solve this puzzle overnight. He knows if we're going to be successful that it's going to take some time."

"I don't even know where to begin," Hermione languished, shutting her eyes.

 _She knows exactly where to start_ , Draco thought as he began to rub slow circles near the base of her neck. _She just needs help talking through it._

"Well, I think we can safely assume that the memory charm wasn't cast with the best intentions," he said after a moment. "It was probably cast quickly, before Rodolphus attempted to kill the boy. We can start there."

"Yes. Yes, you're right," Hermione said, pulling a quill and a new piece of parchment out of her bag on the floor. She began writing furiously, trying to get all of her thoughts on paper before she forgot them.

Draco smiled as he watched her write. He didn't want to break her concentration, so he continued to rub his hand along her back. He realized she was mumbling to herself, biting on her lower lip again, and he fought the urge to brush her hair away from her neck and bring his lips to her skin. _If she wants me to keep my hands (and mouth) off her, she really needs to stop doing that_ , he thought, taking a deep calming breath/

Eventually, Hermione dropped her quill and sighed.

"I need to make sure these won't hurt the boy before we attempt to use them," she said looking up at Draco with big eyes. "But I didn't bring any of my books with me."

"How very un-Granger of you," Draco said jokingly, stepping in front of her and offering her his hands to lift her out of the chair. "Let's head back to your office. I'm sure the Healers will need to check on the boy again soon, and we'd just be in their way if we stayed."

He squeezed her hand before walking slowly to the door, pulling it open and speaking quickly to the guard outside.

Hermione glanced down at the unconscious boy. _I will find a way to help you_ , she promised silently before turning to follow Draco out of the room.

* * *

Draco was perched on the edge of Hermione's desk looking over her notes from St. Mungo's, while she sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by a large pile of books.

"Hermione, you've gone through that book three times now. I don't think you're going to find anything new this time around," he said, looking up from the piece of parchment in his hands. "And there's nothing here in your notes that I recognize to be harmful."

"It's the combination of the spells that I'm worried about," Hermione explained without looking up from the large book in her lap. "I just can't find anything that's remotely helpful!" She threw the book closed and crossed her arms in frustration.

"You know, you're adorable when you get worked up like this," Draco said, removing his reading glasses and placing them on the desk.

"I don't see how you can be so calm about this!" she huffed, trying to ignore how much it turned her on that he wore fucking reading glasses. _Couldn't he have just one unattractive quality?_ "I could accidentally wake the boy up or worse permanently harm him if I choose the wrong incantations!" she added loudly.

"I'm telling you Hermione, there's nothing wrong with your spells," Draco asserted. "It's late and we've been at this for hours," he said after glancing up at the clock on the wall. "We should call it a day."

He got up from his spot on the desk and bent down to look Hermione directly in the eyes, hoping his devilish smirk would be enough to tear her away from her damned books.

"Oh, alright," she said finally, unable to resist him.

Draco helped her pick the books off the floor and placed his pile neatly on her desk next to the others.

"Well, I suppose I should let you get home," Hermione said quietly as she stared down at her hands. She didn't really want to be alone, but she also felt a little silly asking the man she had just started sleeping with to spend the night with her yet again.

"Do you want me to go home?" Draco asked. Clearly, he didn't share her qualms.

"No," Hermione whispered.

"Well, where do you want me to go?" he prompted, another smirk spread across his perfectly kissable lips.

"Home – with me," Hermione said more bravely than she felt.

Draco smiled wickedly. "Lead the way, Ganger."


	7. Dealing with Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Falling by Trevor Daniel, Now I'm In It by HAIM, and One Million Lovers, The Growlers

"Granger," came Draco's booming voice from the other side of the stack, "Your office literally cannot fit any more books."

"Nonsense," Hermione retorted, brushing a rogue curl away from her eyes. "There's plenty of space in there."

"And where do you expect the man you're shagging and sometimes working with to sit once we add these to your collection?" Draco said as he rounded the corner levitating a pile of books in front of him.

It wasn't the Hogwarts library where Madam Pince waited in the shadows to shush anyone for being too loud, but it was still a library, and at least in Hermione's mind, that meant there were rules.

"Ouch!" Draco yelped playfully as Hermione smacked him on the shoulder with the rolled up piece of parchment in her hands.

"This is a library, Malfoy," she whispered, her face red with embarrassment. "Or have you already forgotten where we are?"

Draco laughed, his voice echoing off the ceiling above them.

"Oh, I haven't forgotten." He moved his body closer, stopping just inches away from her, his quicksilver eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know," he began, grabbing hold of her arms and pulling her against him, "You're irresistible when you get this worked up."

Hermione tried to feign disinterest, but her body betrayed her as it shuddered under his touch.

"This isn't fair," she mumbled as he wrapped his hands around the back of her neck. "All you have to do is distract me with your bad boy charms, and I turn into a blithering idiot."

"Bad boy charms? Please. I'm always well behaved," Draco chuckled. "And for the record, you're never a blithering idiot."

"You call this well behaved?" Hermione said, gesturing to their compromising position in the middle of the Ministry library. "We're supposed to be working," she added in a whisper as he moved his lips to the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"Granger," he said in between kisses to her neck, "I am working."

If Hermione hadn't been so frazzled by Draco's position on her neck, she would have been able to think of a snarky retort to get them back on task, but it was too late for that. She was thoroughly distracted.

"Someone. Could. Catch. Us," Hermione said as Draco inched his mouth closer to her lips.

"Shhh," Draco said with a smirk. "We're in the library."

All of the air left her lungs as he crashed his lips into hers. Whatever Hermione had been thinking, whatever she had wanted to say, was lost as she gave in to his touch. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue teasing her lips, and she felt his heartbeat quicken under his chest. Moving his hands down to her waist, he pulled her closer and she settled her hips below the obvious bulge in his pants, grinding against him. A small moan escaped her lips as he deepened their kiss, his tongue clashing elegantly against hers. He tasted like coffee today. She moved her hands up under his shirt, smirking when she felt his own involuntary shudder as she dragged her fingernails up his chest.

Draco's hands found their way under her blouse, moving softly along the flat of her stomach before sneaking under her bra and teasing her nipples. She gasped and bit down on his lip in response as every inch of her body tingled. Without thinking, she hastily undid the button on his pants, lowered the zipper, and slipped her hand in his briefs, closing her fist around his hardened member. He growled into her mouth and pushed her back roughly into the stacks behind them.

_Salazar, did she really just–_

_Godric, are we really–_

_Oh god, her hands._

_Oh GOD, my hands._

"Draco!" Hermione gasped as she pulled away suddenly, her eyes wide and her breathing labored. "We can't do this here. We have to get back to work."

He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down as he took a few deep breaths.

"You started it," Draco accused as his eyes blinked open. "But fine, I guess I'll allow it." He readjusted himself and zipped up his pants, reluctantly backing away as he watched her try to steady her breathing.

He didn't know how she did it, compartmentalize things so well that she was able to push aside whatever was happening between the two of them and focus on other things. She was intoxicating, and he was powerless to resist her. Who was she talking about _fair?_

After smoothing out her blouse, Hermione threw her bag over her shoulder and scooped up a large pile of books, struggling slightly under their combined weight. Despite wanting to do anything other than go back to work, Draco shook his head and chuckled. No matter how many times he had told her to "just give it up already and use your wand," she insisted on carrying books around in her hands. _Always so stubborn_. He watched as she took a few unbalanced steps away before flicking his wand and levitating the remaining books toward the exit, trying his best to focus his attention on anything but her perfectly plump backside.

But they only made it a few paces before Hermione stopped abruptly, and Draco cocked his head slightly, eyeing her curiously.

"Fuck it," she nearly shouted as she slammed down her pile of books. "You win!" She turned around, closed the distance between them, and threw her hands around Draco's head, burying her fingers in his stupidly perfect hair. "If we get caught, I'm blaming this on you," she said before pulling his lips back into hers.

Draco smiled against her lips as he backed her into a dark corner, ignoring the sound of books falling to the ground. Apparently, her ironclad will wasn't so ironclad after all.

* * *

It wasn't so bad, having Draco as a distraction. Sure, he interrupted their work almost constantly, seemingly unable to control his urges in her presence. And sure, she would never look at a stack of books the same way again after what they had just done against one in the Ministry library, but he was good for her, and she wasn't sure she would have been able to handle the stress of the past few weeks without him.

Some days were easier than others, but he was always there. They started each day at St. Mungo's, taking turns working through a list of spells and incantations they had compiled the previous day, fruitlessly hoping that the young boy would respond to something. Anything. And when they failed, Draco would comfort her, his arms wrapping around her body, and remind her that there were always more things to try. More things to learn. By lunchtime, they would be back in the Ministry, pulling more books off the shelves in the library before hunkering down in Hermione's office to begin working on a list of things to try the next day. Draco's hands would find the back of her neck by dinnertime, and before she could find the words to protest, he would lead her from the office and quickly Apparate them to one of their lofts where they would spend the night trying to rid themselves of their daily frustrations.

So, it _really_ wasn't so bad.

Other than work, it was actually pretty damn perfect.

Understanding her newfound feelings toward Draco; however, was more difficult than she anticipated. She knew from the moment that he kissed her in the Ministry's infirmary that this wasn't going to be some forgettable sexual rendezvous, that he wasn't going to be just some man that she used to get over a wave of near-debilitating loneliness. She actually felt something, something that she wasn't quite sure she was willing to admit, and it terrified her. Not in the _run away from him and never come back_ kind of way, but definitely more along the lines of _oh god, this is happening so fast but_ _I can't stop_. If her feelings toward him weren't overwhelming enough, then there was the sex, Merlin help her, which was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Slow when it needed to be, hard and fast when she wanted it. She was already addicted. To him. To them together.

Hermione's eyes fell on Draco as he scribbled on a piece of parchment, his head bent over a book laying open on top of her desk. Despite his predilection for distractions, especially those that involved making her tremble in his arms, it was obvious that he was dedicated to his work. Perhaps he was still trying to make up for all the things he had done wrong before and during the war, or perhaps he simply enjoyed the challenges of the puzzle they faced in finding Rodolphus, but no matter his reasons, it was clear that their assignment was important to him. He was unapologetically smart and thought quickly on his feet, often beating Hermione to a new idea before it could even cross her mind. Ten years ago, it would have driven her mad that someone could ever best her in the pursuit of knowledge, but now, it only made her that much more interested in him, that much more excited to continue whatever it was they were doing.

She loved watching him work, his brow furrowed in concentration above a pair of adorably cute reading glasses that always seem to slide too far down on his nose. Her heart fluttered every time she caught him biting his lip or running his long fingers through his hair. Her mouth watered when he took his coat off, flexing his muscular arms. Her cheeks flushed when he moved close to her, his musk invading her senses and his body brushing against hers. It was a wonder she got any work done at all. He wasn't an idiot. He had to know what he was doing to her, there was no way he didn't. Right?

Draco was most definitely not an idiot. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Most days, he could barely keep his hands to himself, and it seemed only fair that he make it hard for her to do the same. He could feel her eyes on him when he chewed at his lip or when he played with his hair. He knew she loved to stare at his body, even if it was just his arms. He could hear the furious beating of her heart when he leaned in close to her and could feel the shivers his touch sent down her spine. Hell, it was driving him crazy to just think about how she reacted to him.

Even before they began falling into each other's beds, Draco had never met anyone quite like her. She was stubborn, compassionate, and overwhelmingly brilliant. For someone who constantly referred to herself as _plain_ , nothing about her was ordinary. Not the way she avoided the spotlight, not the way she buried herself in her work, and definitely not the way she used her mouth on him when no one was looking. She was perfectly extraordinary, and he couldn't get enough.

If anything about her was flawed it was that she was too easily flustered. Emotions were her obvious weakness, but even he, who had grown up in what was probably the most emotionally sterile environment in all of Britain, had to admit that wasn't much to be concerned about. Sure, she wore her emotions on her sleeves, often letting them get the better of her, but more often than not, she used them as fuel to power her countless endeavors.

Draco looked over at Hermione from beneath his eyelashes and allowed himself a small smile. It was difficult to explain how he had fallen for her so quickly – and he had fallen hard. Yes, being with her was exhilarating, but so was hunting dark wizards and he definitely wasn't harboring any secret romantic feelings about them. Perhaps it was their shared past, both of them broken by the war, but it was hard to see how that alone could have thrust these new feelings on him so spectacularly. More likely, he thought, it was that deep down he had always known that they could be good together. If only he had just been pulled his head out of his arse sooner, if he had just been less of a prat, he could have seen, like he did now, that she was perfect in every way.

"Malfoy." He looked up quickly, blinking away his daydream.

Hermione was standing in front of him, her hands on her hips.

"Do you need something, Granger?" Draco asked, leaning back in his seat as he smirked up at her.

"You've been staring at the same page for an hour," she said matter-of-factly. "And here I thought we were sharing the workload," she added, throwing a piece of parchment on the desk.

"Correction," he replied, holding his own piece of parchment up, his notes scribbled across the page. "I finished my work an hour before you and decided to take a well-deserved break."

Hermione mumbled something that sounded awfully like she was repeating what he said in a mocking manner, and he had to fight the urge to laugh.

Laughing would be such a waste of a moment he had every intention of taking advantage of.

"I'm sorry," Draco said as he got up from his seat and moved behind her on the other side of the desk. "Did you say something?" He moved her curls away from the side of her neck and brought his lips to the skin over her pulse.

"I said..." she began, raising her voice slightly in an attempt to get his attention.

"Yes?" he inquired before moving his lips along her jaw.

"I don't remember what I said," Hermione admitted dreamily as she turned around to look at him.

The effect he was having on her was completely unfair, so she bit down on her lip to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Granger," Draco growled, his pupils blown wide.

"Oh, does this bother you?" she asked before biting back down on her lip and batting her eyelashes at him.

Before Hermione knew what was happening, Draco lifted her up on the desk and moved in between her legs, his eyes swirling with his need for her. He moved a hand to her chin and tilted her head towards him.

"You are..." he began, looking down at her with a twinkle in his eye.

"Amazing? Brilliant? Distracting?" she offered, breathing heavily between each word.

"Yes." _All of the above._

Suddenly, they were kissing again. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and ignored the thuds of books falling to the ground as he leaned her back onto the desk. Draco buried his hands in her hair as his tongue danced around in her mouth, and she realized, for the second time that day, that she didn't care that they were at work; she didn't want him to stop.

"I- um... woah," came a voice from the doorway.

Both Draco and Hermione jumped, quickly disentangling themselves from each other before turning to see Harry standing near the door with his hands clamped over his eyes.

"That's rather unnecessary," Hermione said after shifting her body off of the desk. "We're fully clothed, Harry."

"Yes, well…" Harry began, slowly moving his hand from his face. "That was just very… unexpected."

 _And it explains a whole fucking_ _lot,_ he thought looking between his two friends.

"You really should learn to knock, Potter," Draco said, his lips curled into a small smile. It was obvious they were caught, but there were definitely far worse things than Harry knowing about them.

"Are you two," Harry began, gesturing between Draco and Hermione, "a thing?"

Hermione wasn't sure what to say, so she looked at Draco with wide eyes, hoping he would be able to conjure some sort of response. Unfortunately, he was just as lost for words as she was, and much to her dismay, chose to remain silent.

"You know what," Harry said, throwing his hands in the air, clearly uncomfortable with their silence. "I'm going to just pretend I didn't see anything."

"It's new!" Hermione blurted out suddenly, surprising even herself.

 _Smooth_ , Draco mouthed as he gawked at her.

"What Granger means," Draco said, giving her a look of amusement as he spoke, "is that we haven't really talked about what this is yet."

 _As if that was better_ , Hermione thought to herself as she glared back at him.

"I just caught you with your tongues down each other's throats and you don't know if this is a thing or not?" Harry asked looking between the two of them, his mouth gaped open in disbelief.

"Well, we definitely like to-" Draco started, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Harry interrupted before he could finish his thought. "Don't finish that. I don't want to know."

Draco crossed his arms across his chest. "In that case, to what do we owe this pleasure, oh Chosen One?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Dinner," Harry mumbled, vigorously rubbing his eyes as if to rid himself of the image of Draco with his tongue down Hermione's throat.

"Harry, it's 3 pm," Hermione said, clearly confused.

"Yes, I know that," Harry sighed, moving his hands from his face. "What I mean is that Ginny is insisting that I have you both over for dinner tomorrow night since you've been too busy to visit the past few weeks." He paused, looking between the couple. "Which is just perfect because she's very obviously not going to be able to figure out what's going on between the two of you," he finished sarcastically.

"Both of us?" Hermione asked, shuffling nervously on her feet.

"Try not to look so disappointed, Granger," Draco said, lifting an eyebrow.

"I didn't mean it like that," Hermione said, looking at him apologetically. "It's just, Harry's right. Ginny will figure it out right away."

"And that would be a bad thing, why?" Draco asked, confused.

"Because she'll make it a thing," Hermione and Harry said at the same time.

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "What are we, eleven?"

"She's bored," Harry explained. "Hasn't had much adult contact the past few months."

Draco opened his mouth to make a snarky remark, but Hermione elbowed him in the stomach.

"Ouch," Draco mouthed to which she responded by sticking her tongue out. Harry, meanwhile, pretended not to see their whole childish exchange by taking a sudden interest in the state of his fingernails.

"Anyways, you're both coming," Harry instructed after he decided it was safe to look over at them again. "You'll just have to find a way to keep it in your pants for one night."

"I think we can handle that, Harry," Hermione responded curtly.

"Are you sure about that?" Harry asked, smirking. "I did just walk in on you using paid Ministry time to attack Malfoy's face."

"That's- we were- it was five minutes," Hermione said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"And it was definitely her fault," Draco said waving his arm in her general direction. "I'll behave at dinner if she does."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Draco stuck his tongue out at her before she could.

"I'm surrounded by children," Harry mumbled to himself. "Dinner is at 7 pm. Just, I don't know, pretend you still want to punch him in the face or something," he said loud enough for them to hear as nearly ran out of the room.

"It's a date!" Draco called after him.

Hermione threw her hands on her hips and turned back toward Draco. "A date? Really?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to keep you on your toes with the length of these chapters apparently. I think this should be the shortest (and most filler-esque) of the bunch – that is unless I decide to split up another beastly chapter into multiple parts. Big things are just around the corner, I promise!


	8. The Weasel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Another Sad Love Song by Khalid, Heat Waves by Glass Animals, and You should be sad by Halsey

Hermione watched through the kitchen window as Draco ran around outside with an overly energetic James, her heart skipping a beat as he scooped the young boy up and lifted him onto his shoulders.

"Draco! How fast can you run over there?" James yelled excitedly, pointing somewhere away from the house.

She heard Draco telling him to hold on tight before taking off at a sprint toward the edge of the backyard, the young boy's giggles filling the air.

"I really should get that child in bed," Ginny sighed from from her position somewhere behind Hermione.

"Which one?" Hermione asked, turning toward her friend, a smile spread across her face.

Ginny laughed before turning back toward the stove to mix a simmering pot of sauce.

Knowing it was futile to try to hide anything from Ginny, especially since keeping secrets from her wasn't exactly Harry's strong point, Hermione had decided to owl her before dinner to tell her about Draco. It was certainly easier than having her figure it out in the middle of dessert and making it awkward for everyone. And to Ginny's credit, she hadn't been all that surprised – and only a little angry that Harry had found out before her – insisting that Hermione should have, in her own words, gotten Draco in bed sooner.

"He's a good man, you know," Ginny offered, waving her wand to move ingredients to a pan on the stove. "Not many people would run around entertaining someone else's demonic offspring," she added, gesturing outside.

"I know," Hermione responded, her hands closed around a warm cup of tea. "It's just- well, things have happened fast."

Fast was an understatement. Sure, they had known each other since they were eleven, but they spent most of that time hating each other, him an heir to an immense pureblood fortune and her the muggle-born member of the Golden Trio. Even after Draco had re-emerged in the wizarding world and became an Auror, she had seen very little of him, assuming, even despite Harry's insistence otherwise, that he hadn't really changed. It wasn't until she had woken up in his bed, hungover from a night of bad decisions, that he crept back into her life, and they had been doing whatever they were doing, and feeling whatever they were feeling, practically ever since.

Ginny nodded in understanding. "Doesn't mean it's not right, though," she asserted. "I think you two are good together." She wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to stand next to Hermione. "Plus, you were in desperate need of a good shag."

"Ginny!"

"What!?" Ginny said, throwing her hands in the air. "Is he as good in bed as he looks like he would be?" she asked, not even attempting to hide the mischievous look on her face.

"You do remember you're married to Harry, right?" Hermione responded, raising an eyebrow.

"Not the point," Ginny said with a shrug. "I'm pregnant and horny and deserve to know everything."

 _Well it's not like she won't bug me until she gets the answer she wants anyways_ , Hermione thought.

"Fine. Yes, the sex is mind blowing."

Mind blowing didn't even begin to describe how amazing sex with Draco was, but she didn't know how else to describe it. His touch was electric, and no matter when or how their bodies brushed together, she felt like her heart might explode from the shock.

"That's all I get?" Ginny exclaimed. "I need details, Hermione. Details!"

"What details?" asked Harry as he came down the stairs and walked into the kitchen. "Albus is finally asleep," he added before kissing Ginny on the cheek.

"Oi, you ruined it!" Ginny said, playfully hitting Harry in his shoulder. "Hermione was just about to tell me how good Draco is in bed."

Harry turned a bright shade of red and groaned. "Oh, good god. Why am I not even the least bit surprised?" he mumbled, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

"Just, shoo!" Ginny said loudly. "James is outside with Draco, no doubt torturing him with one of the many games he's invented. Go make yourself useful."

Harry grumbled but obliged and quickly walked out the back door, leaving the two women to continue their conversation.

"So?" Ginny said, turning back toward Hermione after the door closed behind Harry.

"It's– he's intense," Hermione said, catching sight of Draco running past the window again with a screaming James still on his shoulders. "We can barely make it through the workday without jumping on each other."

More like _she_ couldn't make it through the day without attacking him. Everything he did turned her on: the way he adjusted his reading glasses, the way he sat back in a chair when he was talking to her, and most definitely, the way he moved his wand between his fingers when he was thinking about something.

"Young love," Ginny said dreamily, tilting her head to study her friend. "I remember those days."

"I mean, I don't know about love, but–"

"Oh, come on Hermione. You look at him like a sick puppy," Ginny interrupted as she busied herself stirring the pot of sauce again. "If you aren't in love with him now, you can't be that far off."

"I– well, I suppose– maybe one day," Hermione muttered in response.

 _Love_. It was a scary word for her. It had failed her so miserably once before, and she was thoroughly terrified to venture down that path again even though things felt entirely different this time around. She definitely didn't want to make a fool of herself by telling Draco she loved him before he was ready to take that step.

"Mhmm, sure. One day." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Now tell me. How big?" she asked as she put both of her hands out in front of her and began moving them a part.

Ginny's eyes widened when Hermione remained quiet (and the space between her hands reached a ridiculous large distance). "I am so not answering that!" Hermione giggled.

"Fine," Ginny huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "How often are you riding his mystery-sized wizard's staff?"

Hermione nearly choked on her tea. "Oh, seriously," she said after clearing her throat. "You are relentless."

"Don't care," Ginny retorted quickly. "You refused to answer the other one, so this you have to tell me."

"Oh, alright," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Every day, sometimes more than once."

She didn't know where his stamina came from, or hers for that matter, but she definitely wasn't complaining. There had only been one night where they fell into bed together and were too tired to rip each other's clothes off, and that had been yesterday after they had already made good use of the stacks in the Ministry Library.

"Any less and I'd be disappointed in you." Ginny smirked. "I'm happy for you. It's been a long time since someone meant something to you," she added softly.

"That's really more my fault than anyone else's," Hermione said quietly.

Another squeal punctuated their conversation, and the two women looked outside to see Harry and Draco tossing an overly excited James up in the air between them.

"It's okay to be vulnerable with someone," Ginny said, putting her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Not everyone means you harm."

"I know," Hermione responded, unable to tear her eyes away from Draco. "I told him about Ron," she confessed.

"Wow," Ginny replied, the surprise obvious in her voice. "That's huge for you."

"We ran into him and Pansy last week at dinner," Hermione explained, smiling weakly. "I didn't exactly handle it well, so Draco obviously knew something was wrong. I showed him some of my memories. Not all of them, but enough for him to grasp the situation."

"Well, he clearly didn't run away," Ginny said, gesturing outside.

"No, he didn't. He was definitely furious with Ron though," she paused, remembering how angry he had looked when he pulled away from her memories. "But instead of hunting him down, he stayed and comforted me... and then I may have attacked his lips with my lips."

Ginny laughed. "That's the Hermione I know and love."

Hermione inhaled deeply before continuing. "I know I'm being ridiculous, but sometimes I worry that I'm too attached to him, that I was so lonely before running into him that I'm trying to force something to happen between us."

"Do you honestly think anyone can force Malfoy to do anything he doesn't want to do?" Ginny asked with raised eyebrows.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I suppose not."

"Exactly," Ginny said, flicking her wand to calm a boiling pot of water. "There's no way he'd be spending all this time with you if you weren't important to him."

"Muuummm!" came a small voice from the back yard, interrupting their conversation.

The two women turned toward the back door and watched as James came running into the kitchen, his cheeks red from the cold, his hair as disheveled as his father's, and his small fist closed around a small four-leaf clover.

"Look at what I found!" James squeaked excitedly, waving his hand wildly in the air.

"Will you look at that!" Ginny exclaimed, picking him up and resting him on her hip.

Harry pushed open the back door and strode into the house, followed by Draco, whose own cheeks were flushed with color.

"Draco helped me," James said happily, "and he told me I could have all the luck!"

Hermione turned her head towards Draco and eyed him reverently. He was laughing about something with Harry, completely unaware of how James's story was making her heart pound furiously under her blouse, and she found herself, quite unexpectedly, wondering what it would be like to see Draco with a child of his own.

"We'll have to put this somewhere safe," she heard Ginny say as she continued to stare at him, unable to logic away the sudden flood of baby Draco images rushing into her mind.

"I think it's time for bed," Ginny said, setting James back on the ground. "Say goodnight to Aunt Hermione and Draco."

James hobbled over to Hermione, still holding onto his four-leaf clover tightly, and threw his hands above his head. She bent down and lifted him into her arms, giving him a hug.

"You," Hermione said, feigning serious effort, "are getting way too big."

"Am not!" he replied with a giggle.

"If you say so," Hermione said as she kissed his cheek.

"Night, night Auntie Mione," James said sleepily.

Hermione smiled as she gave him another squeeze. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Will you keep my clover safe for me?" James asked as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"Of course," Hermione responded, taking the small leaf in her hand.

Draco walked over to Hermione, placing a hand on her back, and bent down to say goodnight to James before Ginny swooped over and carried him upstairs. Harry followed shortly after, leaving Hermione and Draco alone in the kitchen.

"He really is the spitting image of Harry," Hermione said as she watched the family disappear. She paused, moving the four-leaf clover to a small dish on the counter before turning to face the towering blond behind her who was still chuckling quietly at her statement.

"I didn't think I'd ever meet someone who'd give Harry a run for his money in the rule-breaking department, but that kid is going to be trouble," Draco said finally, shaking his head. "A Gryffindor through and through."

"Oh, please," she said, her eyes almost rolling to the back of her head. "There is no way Harry broke more school rules than you."

"Who me?" he said, pulling her into his arms. "I was a perfect angel."

"Mhmm," Hermione mumbled before placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth. "And I wasn't the nerdiest girl in school," she added, looking up at him longingly.

Their lips met softly as she pushed her body closer to his, her hands resting possessively against his chest.

"You, know. I'm glad you told Ginny," Draco said as he pulled away slightly. "Because now I can do this–" he paused to place another kiss on her lips "–whenever I want."

Hermione could only hum in response.

She felt so comfortable in his arms, as if he was a piece of her soul that she had been missing all along, and while that may have scared her a few weeks ago, now she couldn't get enough of his touch. Draco rested his chin on top of her head as she buried her face against his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent. _Perhaps Ginny's right_ , she thought as she closed her eyes.

"Oi, you two better be decent," Harry called from the top of the stairs.

"And if we're not?" Draco retorted, his snigger vibrating against Hermione's body.

She could hear Harry's footsteps grow louder as he approached, and she reluctantly pulled away from Draco's embrace moments before Harry came into view again.

"Then that'll be twice in two days that I'll have needed to scrub my eyes with soap to rid myself of that image," Harry said as he entered the kitchen.

Draco laughed. "Good one, Potter," he said as he leaned back against the counter behind him, his eyes only momentarily leaving Hermione's face. "And to think, it only took you a decade to up your banter game."

Harry waved his hand dismissively in the air. "I'm brilliant at it, and you know it."

"Git."

"Twat."

"Men," Hermione whispered under her breath as she shook her head.

It was strange to see Harry and Draco being so friendly (and happily bickering for Merlin's sake), but then again, it really wasn't surprising at all. Even when they had been enemies in school, Hermione had always thought they were more alike than either of them would have been willing to admit. In a different world, they probably would have grown up as friends, maybe even ended up in the same house at Hogwarts. Perhaps that's why it was so easy for them to move beyond their less – _much less_ – than perfect past and become friends after Harry convinced Draco to become an Auror.

"I give it 20 minutes before James finds his way back down here," Ginny said as she re-emerged in the kitchen. "Ahh, the pasta is almost ready," she added as she inspected the food on the stove.

"I'll help you set the table," Hermione said, pulling her wand out of her pocket. She brushed past Draco on her way to the dining table, and blushed when she felt his fingers gently linger on hers.

_Yes. Perhaps, I really do love him already..._

* * *

Hermione couldn't stop smiling.

She was perched on the floor in between Draco's legs holding a glass of wine while he absentmindedly traced a line between her shoulder blades with one of his hands from his position behind her on the couch. Harry and Ginny were slumped comfortably in chairs on the other side of the living room, and Ginny's feet resting on the coffee table after having glared at her husband until he moved his own to give her more space. Everyone was laughing at the story Harry had just told about the time he had snuck a Box 'O' Rockets in Draco's book bag during their third year at Hogwarts.

"That was you!?" Draco exclaimed, cringing at the memory. "I sat in detention for weeks because of that."

"To be fair," Hermione inserted with a chuckle, "you definitely deserved it that year."

"As opposed to all the other years?" Draco asked, his fingers lingering on the back of her neck. "I'm honestly surprised it took Harry five years to try to murder me."

Despite the allusion to the Sectumsempra incident, both Draco and Harry laughed.

It had taken Draco years to be able to talk casually about that time in his life, when he had so foolishly taken the Dark Mark in a desperate attempt to save his family, but he no longer felt a pit in his stomach when he talked about it. While he would never forgive himself for everything he did, taking responsibility for his mistakes had done wonders for his anxiety.

Hermione and Ginny eyed each other momentarily, silently communicating their surprise at the two men's reactions as their laughter died down.

"Well if Harry had succeeded in turning into a blood-thirsty murderer, where do you think Hermione would be now?" Ginny queried, attempting to steer the conversation into more friendly waters.

"Probably in a library somewhere," Draco answered, his fingers playfully pinching the back of Hermione's neck.

"Ahh yes, and blissfully unaware that you ever existed," Hermione quipped, tilting her head back to stare into his eyes.

Draco smiled wickedly in response. "You'll pay for that later," he whispered.

Without warning – the new couple too distracted with each other to notice – the fireplace on the other side of the room turned bright green.

"Are we expecting–?" Ginny started, sitting up in her chair, confused.

"No," Harry said quickly, tightening his hand around his wand, his eyes fixed on the flames.

The tone of Harry's voice caught Draco's attention, and when he finally noticed the fireplace, his eyes narrowed in concern. He slipped his own wand out of his pocket, placing the other hand protectively on Hermione's shoulder. Harry and Draco barely had a moment to nod at each other in preparedness before a figure emerged from the flames.

Ginny's jaw dropped.

Hermione swallowed heavily.

Draco clenched his fists angrily.

Harry spoke first, lowering his wand to his side. "Ron?"

"Ronald Bilius, what in Godric's name are you doing here?" Ginny asked second, a hand over her heart.

"What can't a guy–" But Ron stopped when he finally looked around the room. "Oh..."

"Ron," Harry said quickly, his eyes darting over to Draco and Hermione. "Perhaps we should go outside."

"What is he doing here? With her!?" Ron asked angrily, gesturing toward Draco and Hermione.

Not that it mattered, and not that either of them particularly cared, but Ron's sudden arrival had left little time for Draco or Hermione to untangle themselves from each other.

"Good to see you too, Weasley," Draco managed as his hand squeezed reassuringly around Hermione's shoulder.

Except for Ron's heavy breathing, the room was silent.

But Ron didn't have to speak for everyone to know exactly what was coming next. His thoughts, as always, were written all over his body: his face was bright red, his shoulders were tensed, and his fist was clenched tightly around his wand – he was ready for a fight.

Harry, who had known his friend for long enough to know when he was about to make things exponentially worse, got out of his chair and moved towards him. "Ron. Outside. Now."

"NO!" He bellowed. "Why are they here… together? It's fucking Malfoy!"

Hermione felt Draco stiffen above her, and in an attempt to calm him, she reached over her shoulder to place a hand on top of his. Her heart was pounding, and she wished desperately she could just disappear, but it appeared Ron's presence was affecting Draco more than her, and a wave of protectiveness washed over her.

 _Don't listen to him,_ she wanted to say, squeezing his hand a bit harder when she couldn't dislodge the lump in her throat quickly enough to speak. She felt Draco's hand twitch in response before his thumb began move slowly as if to reassure her, and she relaxed slightly.

But suddenly, and to her complete horror, Ron took a step towards them.

"Ron. Now is not the time for this," Harry said, intersecting his friend's path and pushing him out of the room. "Ginny will never forgive you if you do this," he added under his breath. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Ron's eyes were fixed on Draco, his body shaking in anger and disbelief. "Harry, he's fucking Death Eater!" he yelled, gesturing wildly. "I can't believe you would let him around your kids! Around her!"

Without thinking, Draco moved his hand from Hermione's shoulder and stood up.

"I don't think it's me people should be afraid of Weasley," he said, his anger, despite his attempts to keep it under control, clawing its way to the surface. Draco stalked over to Ron, stopping when their faces were merely a few inches away from each other. "I know what you did to her," he said, taunting him. "Don't think I won't hurt you if you come near her ever again."

Ron blinked, looking worriedly toward Hermione as she picked herself off the ground and crossed her arms across her chest, her wand concealed in the sleeve of her sweater. If Ron so much as laid a finger on Draco, she was going to make sure he paid for it.

"I don't know what–"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Weasley. The only reason I haven't laid a hand on you now is because of her," Draco said, pointing at Hermione.

"I– nothing–"

"Ron! Outside now!" Harry yelled moving in between the two men. "Draco, just leave it okay? I'll handle this," he added quietly, turning to face the blond.

Ron's eyes travelled back to Hermione, his lips parted in disbelief.

"Ron, go," Ginny commanded angrily, standing up from her own position across the room.

"Fine," Ron mumbled as he turned to head outside. Harry nodded at the other three before quickly following his old friend out of the room.

"I am going to kill him," Ginny said when the two men were gone, her face red. "Twat."

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding and moved her wand back into her pocket. Draco was still standing near the doorway, his fists clenched at his sides, and knowing he was upset, Hermione walked over and grabbed his hand.

"We should go," she said quietly, not sure if he could even heard her.

Draco didn't answer.

"Draco," Hermione said softly, maneuvering herself so she could look up into his stormy eyes. She had expected that seeing Ron again would cause her to spiral like last time, but for some reason, it wasn't as stressful this time around. The only thing she was worried about now was what Draco might do if they stayed any longer – or worse, if Ron came back into the house.

"Ginny," she said, turning her head. "Will you tell Harry goodbye for us? We really should get out of here before we make things worse."

"No," Draco said suddenly, his arms pushing her away from him he could look at her. "I think you should talk to him."

Hermione snapped her head back around unable to believe what she had just heard. The storm had lessened somewhat in his eyes, but despite being the one to utter the words, it was clear that he still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of her interacting with Ron.

"You want me to talk to Ron?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Don't you think it's a little overdo?" he responded as his eyes twitched nervously over hers. "I'll stay in here, but if he lays a hand on you–"

"He's my brother, but if he so much as threatens her I'll kill him before you do," Ginny interrupted, her face serious.

Hermione's mouth fell open as she looked back and forth between Draco and Hermione. "You are both nuts."

"Perhaps. But I agree with Draco," Ginny said more quietly. "You need to talk to him. It's the only way you'll be able to move past this."

"In case you haven't realized," Hermione nearly shouted, "I am handling this just fine, thank you very much."

Draco wrapped his arms around her and tilted his head down stopping only when his mouth was close to her ear. "Don't do it for him," he whispered, "do it for you."

_Well, when he puts it like that…_

Hermione sighed. "Fine," she relented, knowing that as much as she wished what they were saying didn't make sense they were right. This might be her only chance to get the closure she had needed for years.

She tilted her head back and looked up at Draco. "You won't leave, right?" she asked quietly.

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied before pulling her in for a kiss.

"Get a room," they heard Ginny mumble.

"I'll be right back," Hermione said quietly after pulling away.

As she walked to the back door, she realized she wasn't actually feeling quite as brave as she thought she was and had to fight the urge to run back into Draco's arms. Accepting what had happened between her and Ron was one thing, but actually talking to him about it was another. She paused at the door and inhaled deeply.

 _Here goes nothing_ , she thought as she pushed open the door.

Ron was pacing in front of Harry near the edge of the woods, his hands flying around his head wildly as he spoke. Hermione couldn't make out exactly what he was saying, but she got the gist.

She made her way slowly across the lawn, stopping when she was a few feet away from the two men.

"Harry," she said quietly, startling both of them. "I'd like to speak to Ron. Alone."

The color drained from Ron's face, and Harry looked at her inquisitively.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

"Yes," she responded. "Just give us a few minutes."

"Alright, I'll be right inside if you need me." Harry glared at Ron as if to tell him to behave and gave Hermione a small nod as he passed by her on the way back into the house.

"Ronald," Hermione said coolly.

"Hermione, I–"

"No. You're going to listen to me," she said as she put her hands on her hips. "You have absolutely no right to come in here, or anywhere else for that matter, and speak to me or others as if you've earned any say in what I do with my life."

"I–"

Hermione raised her hand to silence him. "You lost the right to be in my life the moment you threw me against that wall," she continued, her voice cracking with nerves. "I hope for Pansy's sake that you've gotten help. I hope that you don't make the same mistakes with her. No one deserves to be treated like that."

"I'm sorry," Ron said, his eyes filling with tears. "For everything. I know I fucked up. I know I did. But please, don't do this with Malfoy. He's not–"

"He's not what, Ronald?" Hermione interrupted angrily. "A good person?" She paused, closing her eyes in an attempt to calm her rapidly rising heartbeat. "You have no idea what kind of person he is. What kind of person he's become," she said a bit more quietly. "He's a better man than you."

The words left her mouth before she could stop them, but as harsh as they were, she wasn't sorry that she said them.

"You– you don't mean that," Ron said, his face contorted in pain.

"He's atoned for his sins," she said simply. "Have you?"

Ron didn't answer.

"What's happening between Draco and me is none of your business," Hermione continued. "I didn't come out here to talk to you about him, so if that's all you'd like to discuss then I will happily go back inside."

Ron pushed his fingers through his hair and looked at her with tears in his eyes.

"I really am sorry, Mione," he said after a few moments. "I was– am an alcoholic."

 _Brilliant deduction_ , Hermione thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"I– um– went to see a Mind Healer a few years after you left, after nearly drinking myself to death. That's where I met Pansy. She had been struggling too, with potions, and we sort of–"

"Ron, I don't need a play-by-play. I am very much aware that you're engaged to Pansy Parkinson."

"I'm sorry. I'm just– I don't know– trying to explain," Ron continued, his voice weak. "I thought alcohol was the answer to all of my problems, and for a while, it did numb the pain. All the times you begged me to get help, I just didn't want to believe I had a problem. If I hadn't gotten help when I did…" his body shuddered as he took a deep breath. "The Mind Healer helped me realize that I was drinking to avoid dealing with Fred's death, trying to forget what happened during the war. I had to face those demons before I could get clean, and by the time I did, I knew there was nothing I could do to fix what I did to you."

Hermione stared at Ron, her eyes stinging, as the words she had always wanted him to say came pouring out of his mouth.

"I know it's too late, but I'm so sorry for what I did to you. It makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. I was so horrible to you and– and I– fuck." Ron dropped his head to his hands and began to cry.

Hermione opened her mouth but realized there was nothing she could say to comfort him. As much as it pained her to see him like this, this was always going to be his burden to bear. She had tried to help him, she had tried to make him understand, and yet, he had still willingly allowed his addiction to destroy their life together, to turn him into the worst version of himself. She was done feeling sorry for herself, and she was definitely done worrying about him. Their life together was over – it had been for years.

After a few moments, Ron managed to lift his hand and look at her again. "I will never forgive myself for what I did to you."

"I forgive you," Hermione said, suddenly realizing that saying those words had been the only closure she needed all along. Ron's eyes widened in surprise. "I forgive you because if I didn't, I would never be able to move on with my life. I forgive you because I know you need it to move on too," she added.

"I– thank you," Ron croaked. "I don't deserve it but thank you."

Hermione stood there quietly for a moment while Ron wiped at his face with his sleeve.

"Goodbye, Ron," she said finally, knowing there wasn't much else she could say. "I really hope you find a way to be happy."

She didn't look back as walked away. She didn't, like she always thought she might, cry. Despite the years torment she felt after her and Ron's relationship fell apart, despite all of the horrible things she had felt about herself for letting things get as bad as they did, it was a relief to have finally shut that door. And by the time her hand closed around the cool metal of the doorknob that would let her back into the house, she only had one thing on her mind: the pale, platinum-haired man waiting for her inside.


	9. Munde Openian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - To Die For by Sam Smith, Bones by MS MR, and Like an Animal by Rufus du Sol

Draco wasn't sure what had woken him, a dream perhaps, but when he turned to the other side of the bed reaching out his arm to wrap around Hermione's waist, she wasn't there. Suddenly worried that he had overslept, he opened his eyes slowly, squinting slightly as he anticipated being blinded by the morning sun. Instead, he found the world outside was still dark and quiet, the only light in the room creeping in from around the partially close door. He turned his head, glancing at the clock next to the bed and sighed.

 _I'm really going to have a talk with her about the importance of uninterrupted beauty sleep_ , he thought, throwing his head back onto the pillow.

He lay there for a few minutes, trying to will himself back to sleep, but quickly accepted that rest would remain elusive until he found out what Hermione was doing awake at this ungodly hour. Groaning, he threw the covers off of his body, pulled on the pair of briefs he had tossed across the room late last night, and walked toward the source of the light, stretching his tired limbs as he moved toward to door.

Mornings had never been his favorite time of day – it was hard enough dragging his tired body out of bed on the days when he needed to be at the Ministry before sunrise – but this kind of early was another thing entirely. And if Hermione hadn't looked so damned adorable, wrapped up in a blanket humming to herself as she flipped through a large book in her lap, he might just have told her so.

"Granger?" he said softly, fighting back a yawn as he approached the couch.

Startled, Hermione nearly dropped the book on the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her surprise quickly replaced with a small smile, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," Draco told her, pausing to place a soft kiss on her lips as she tilted her head back toward him. "You know it's three in the morning, right?" he asked, not waiting for a response. He jumped over the back of the couch and settled in next to her. "If you weren't tired, you should have woken me up. There are an endless number of activities I can think of that are more exciting than reading whatever this is in the middle of the night," he added with a smirk.

Hermione blushed. "You were snoring," she quipped. "I doubt you could have handled anything other than sleeping."

"I guess we'll never know," Draco replied, wrapping an arm around her and resting his chin on her shoulder. "What are you reading?"

"Work stuff," Hermione offered, closing to book to show him the cover.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know there's a thing called normal working business hours for that."

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted, shrugging.

In truth, she hadn't slept well for the past few nights. The aftermath of her talk with Ron had been difficult for her to digest – not because she regretted how she left things with him, but because she had finally realized just how deep her feelings were for Draco, and it scared her. She had never fallen for someone like this before, definitely not as fast as she had for him, and she was terrified that he didn't feel the same way.

"Hmm," Draco mumbled.

He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. Despite insisting that her conversation with Ron had brought closure, she had been consumed by her own thoughts for days and he was afraid of what that meant.

"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked, somewhat timidly.

Hermione was surprised by the uneasiness in Draco's voice, but then again, she hadn't quite been herself the past few days, and he was probably worried that something was going on. Knowing she needed to reassure him, she moved the large book to the coffee table and turned to face him.

"I've just been doing a lot of thinking," she said, trying to find the right words to explain what had been going on in her head. "About us."

"Oh?" Draco said quietly, not trusting his voice to handle anything else.

"Not in a bad way," Hermione added quickly when she saw the panicked look on his face. "I just– I'm worried that I've been a little too obsessive."

 _Well, I guess I should have been expecting this_ , Draco thought, relaxing. _She always has been exceptionally skilled at overthinking things._

"What makes you think that?" he asked, moving a hand to the side of her face, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, enjoying the warmth of his skin against her cheek. "We spend nearly every minute of every day together, and yet I still can't stop thinking about you," she said as her eyes fluttered open again.

"And that's a bad thing?" Draco queried, moving his hand to rub the back of her neck.

"No, it's not bad," Hermione said quickly, shivering slightly under his gaze. "I'm really happy to have you in my life. I just don't want to scare you away." She paused trying to think of how to articulate what she wanted to say next without sounding ridiculous but was suddenly overcome with the feeling that she was over analyzing things, _again_ , and found herself unable to continue.

Draco was quiet for a moment. He thought, despite her silence, that he understood what she was struggling to say. "I'm scared too, you know," he admitted. "I've never had anyone mean so much to me so quickly."

Her face relaxed. "How is it," she began, her eyes studying his perfectly kissable lips before settling back into the depths of his eyes, "that you always seem to know exactly what I'm trying to say even when I can't find the words to say it?"

"Magic," he told her, smiling to which she rolled her eyes. "Honestly? I'd like to think I know you pretty well by now," he said, brushing his thumb against her lips. "And I think we're both spending too much time worrying about how fast this has happened, and not enough time telling each other how important we are to each other."

Hermione smiled, thankful for his innate ability to calm her even when her thoughts threatened to consume her. "I do care about you," she said, her fingers running along his exposed chest. "A lot," she emphasized with a smile.

"And I you," Draco said, dropping his arms back down around her waist and pulling her against him. "Probably more than you know," he told her, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Before Hermione, he would have never made himself so vulnerable around someone else, but she had changed everything. Every time he looked at her, he had to fight the urge to wrap her in his arms and word-vomit his emotions all over her. It wasn't complicated, being with her, and for the first time in a long time he didn't feel so alone. For once, he had found something that he didn't feel the urge to run away from.

"Is it crazy that I can't stop thinking about all the ways that I'm going to screw this up?" Hermione asked nervously, turning to look up at him again, the dull light reflecting off the golden flecks in her eyes.

"No," Draco responded, burying his hands in her hair. "But if it makes you feel any better, there's really nothing you can do to scare me off. You're stuck with me."

"Draco, I'm being serious."

"So am I," he responded quickly, unable to tear his eyes away from her. "You really need to start listening to me when I say you can't get rid of me that easily."

"I'm sorry," she said, letting out a breath as she snuggled her head against his chest. "I can be my own worst enemy sometimes. I'm always stuck in my head."

"Well, maybe you should try telling me about all the crazy things swimming around in here," Draco said, jokingly poking the top of her head. "Better yet, I'm rather gifted with Legilimency so I'm sure I could think of some way to unlock your mind to me permanently."

"Ridiculous," she said, looking up. "You can't possibly–"

 _Oh my god_.

Hermione bolted upright nearly knocking Draco off the couch and knelt on the floor in front of the book laying at the edge of the coffee table.

_Unlock… open…_

"Uh, Granger?"

"It was in front of me the whole time," she mumbled as she hastily flipped through the pages. "How could I have missed it?"

"Care to fill me in?" Draco asked as he inched his body forward, wondering what could possibly have gotten her so excited.

"We just need a key!"

"Granger, what in–"

"Draco, the boy! What if his memories weren't erased? What if they were just locked away? What if, instead of reversing a spell that erased his memories, we just have to open his mind?"

Draco's eyes widened in understanding. "Fuck."

"Exactly!" Hermione's eyes were wide. "Draco, I think we just figured out how to repair the boy's memories."

* * *

"Are you sure one of these is going to work?" Harry asked as he eyed the pile of parchment laying on the floor near the boy's bed.

Hermione swung her head around and glared. "Of course, I'm not sure," she responded, annoyed, "but this approach is completely different from what we've been trying the past couple of weeks. If I'm right, it would explain why nothing we've tried has worked so far."

Mere minutes after her middle of the night revelation, Hermione had dragged Draco to the Ministry, and they had spent the early hours of the morning compiling a list of new spells to try. By the time the sun came up, her office looked as if a tornado had blown through it with papers strewn about her desk and open books filling every corner of the floor. Harry had made the unknowing mistake of stopping by on his way to his own office a couple of hours later, and Draco had silently apologized as Hermione roped him into coming with them to the hospital.

"Potter," Draco whispered as Hermione returned her attention back to the list of incantations in her hand, "when has her intuition about something this important ever been wrong?"

"Honestly?" Harry replied quietly. "Never."

In any other situation, the two men would have laughed, but at the moment they were more concerned with what Hermione would do if they caused her to lose her concentration again – hex their mouths shut probably – and so they just looked at each other and held back their sniggers.

"I told you she was the best," Harry dared after a few moments.

"You say that like I ever doubted you," Draco replied quietly, feigning hurt by placing a hand over his heart.

"I distinctly remember you asking me how good she was with memory charms _after_ I made it clear she was the best," Harry retorted, raising an eyebrow. "I think that's the definition of doubt."

"I was merely curious," Draco said, waving a hand nonchalantly. "If you remember, I wasn't exactly speaking with her much then. Plus, I was a little preoccupied with the whole torture thing."

"Yes, fine," Harry mumbled. "I still told you, though," he added with a smirk.

Draco chuckled quietly.

"If you two are done whispering to each other," Hermione said sternly, his arms crossed across her chest as she turned to look at them, "I think we should get started."

"How will you know for sure if anything works?" Harry inquired, attempting to ignore the murderous look being thrown his way.

"Since the boy is still being dosed with sleeping draught, I'll have to peek into his mind after each spell," Draco explained. "It's the same thing we've been doing for the past couple of weeks," he added for Harry's benefit, giving Hermione a reassuring smile.

Despite her continued concern that he would encounter other harmful memories when he re-entered the boy's healed mind, Hermione knew there really wasn't a better way. Today, however, she was thoroughly convinced they had stumbled upon the right approach, and so bringing Harry along had been her last-ditch effort to provide Draco with some sort of protection in case anything went horribly wrong.

Harry, who hadn't been filled in on this part of the process, looked between Draco and Hermione and sighed. "Well at least now my presence here makes some sort of sense," he mumbled. "It's definitely possible that the boy's memories contain more instances of torture."

"Yes," Hermione admitted sadly. She paused before continuing, turning so that her whole body was facing Draco and Harry. "Which is exactly why Draco will not linger. He will only spend enough time in the boy's mind to determine whether or not any new memories have appeared," she added with particular emphasis.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Draco quickly nudged him into silence. _Not the time_ , he mouthed, covering his movement with a cough.

Hermione eyed the two men suspiciously. It wouldn't be the first time they had planned something behind her back – fine, or the second – and while she wanted nothing more than to lecture them, to remind them that she could refuse to help at any time, she reluctantly decided to save her words for later. Right now, she needed to focus on helping the boy.

Draco watched as she turned back around. "Whatever you do, just make sure I don't come back a vegetable," he told Harry quietly. "I doubt she'd be as eager to shag a carrot."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Wonderful timing with the jokes as always, Malfoy."

"Just trying to lighten the mood," Draco said as he stepped away, his arms extended outward in jest before he spun around on his feet, leaving Harry alone at the end of bed.

Truthfully, Draco was nervous. If the rest of the boy's memories were as horrible as the one that he'd already seen, it was likely he'd have a hard time pulling away before being consumed with pain, but he tried to push his nerves aside as he moved next to Hermione.

When he stopped next to her, he quickly squeezed her hand. "It's going to be fine," he said softly, still not really sure if he could believe his own words.

"Ready?" she asked nervously.

He nodded.

Hermione lifted her wand and began working down the list of incantations they had spent all morning drafting. Between each spell, she paused to let Draco quickly search the boy's mind, only continuing once he opened his eyes and shook his head, confirming that nothing had changed. Despite the urgency they both felt, it was tedious and slow work, neither of them willing to rush the process. However, as the list of rejected spells grew, so too did Hermione's frustration. She was sure this had to be the right approach, so why wasn't anything working?

When she reached the bottom of the fourth page, she glanced at the final line and exhaled deeply. _Well, at least we still have one more to go through_ , she thought as she raised her wand again, bracing for yet another failure.

"Munde Openian," she muttered weakly, her voice betraying her feeling of hopelessness.

But as soon as she released the spell, she knew something was different. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt the magic leave her fingertips, and she cast her eyes frantically toward Draco, who seemed to sense her change in demeanor before returning her gaze. She watched, holding her breath, as he lifted his wand, and almost fell over when she saw the color leave his face.

"Uhh, Granger," Draco said, coming back to himself, almost unable to believe what he had just seen. "Whatever you just did definitely worked."

Harry, who had slumped in a chair on the other side of the room with his head in his hands, jumped up. "It worked?!" he asked excitedly.

Draco nodded. "I didn't linger, but there definitely is a lot more in there than there was before."

"Fuck," Harry breathed, his eyes wide with disbelief.

The two men looked over at Hermione expecting to find her as relieved as they were but found that she was still standing next to the boy's bed, staring oddly at the list in her hand.

Harry spoke first. "Hermione, you did it."

When she didn't respond, Draco placed a hand on her back and whispered, "Hermione?"

She looked up at him confused as if she had forgotten that she wasn't alone in the room. "It's strange," she said finally, relaxing slightly as Draco moved his hand to the small of her back. "Most of the spells we use today have some basis in Latin, but the incantation that worked wasn't even a derivative of it."

Draco and Harry looked at her confused.

"Munde Openian is derived from Old English," she explained. "I only added it to the list because I wanted to make sure we tried all the languages we could trace back to Britain, but it just doesn't make sense to me."

Draco cocked his head, suddenly understanding her concern. "Hmm."

"Why wouldn't it make sense?" Harry asked, realizing that he was missing a key piece of information.

"The language, at least in its later years, isn't exactly associated with a group of people who were very accepting of those that were different, let alone anything remotely magical in nature," Draco clarified, his hand rubbing his chin. "It's a wonder that Beowulf was even recorded in Old English."

"Beowulf?" Harry asked, confused.

"Beowulf, hero of the Geats? The monster Grendel? The dragon?" Draco said, his eyes widening as Harry continued to shake his head.

Draco's mouth opened in surprise. "I can see why Hermione was always grumbling about you not doing your homework."

"I'm going to ignore that," Harry said, narrowing his eyes at Draco before speaking again. "I need to send an owl to Kingsley," he continued, his fingers twitching around his wand as he began to formulate plans in his head. "Hermione, I know you want to figure this out, but we need to catalog the boy's memories first." Harry paused, glancing over at Hermione who, despite the look on her face that suggested she wanted to protest, quickly nodded in agreement. "Draco, are you still willing–?"

"Yes," Draco answered before Harry could finish the question, his eyes darting nervously over to Hermione.

Harry nodded in thanks and rushed out of the room.

Once they were alone, Draco turned toward Hermione and found her already deep in thought. "Hermione," he said softly. "You are allowed a moment of peace before you go chasing after the answer to the next mystery."

"Yes, you're right," she replied, her eyes refocusing. "I suppose I should be happy we finally figured this out."

"You figured it out," Draco corrected, moving closer to her.

Hermione frowned. "I wouldn't have figured this out without you," she asserted, unsure why he couldn't see that. "You've been helping me every single day. You're the one who made me think of this idea." She paused, inhaling deeply. "Without you, the boy would have never remembered."

Draco could sense her spiraling into a dark place and decided to risk a bit of humor. "Okay, so we'll share the awards then. I'll take 70 percent of the credit because I'm obviously your greatest inspiration and you–"

Hermione smacked Draco on the shoulder with the rolled up piece of parchment in her hands.

"Abuse, Granger," he said, happy that his gamble had paid off – and happy that it wasn't one of her gigantic books in her hands. "But fine, I'll give you the 70 percent because you're so damn sexy and because I like getting you nak–"

She smacked him with the parchment again, but immediately started laughing when she saw the impish look on his face. While it was mildly infuriating that he could cheer her up in the middle of such a serious situation, she was relieved to have someone around who had that kind of effect on her.

"He could wake up," she said, gesturing to the boy as Draco wrapped his arms around her waist.

Draco chuckled. "They've been giving him enough sleeping draught to knock out a hippogriff. I doubt he's going to wake up the moment I start making sexually charged comments about you."

Hermione groaned, but didn't resist when he pulled her all the way against his body, letting the piece of parchment fall to the ground.

"Don't pretend like my sense of humor isn't half of the reason why you keep me around," he said with a smirk. "Also, I'm very attracted to you, and at this particular moment I'm finding it very difficult to keep it to myself."

"You are ridiculous," she replied before pulling him in for a quick kiss, her hands traveling around to his backside to playfully squeeze his arse.

"Hands, Granger," Draco whispered, his lips inches away from hers.

Hermione smiled and rested her head against his chest, but despite the brief distraction, her worried thoughts quickly clawed their way back into the front of her brain.

"What do you think it means?" she asked.

"The spell?" Draco replied, his breath tangling itself within her curls while his hands moved along her spine.

She nodded against his chest.

"I don't know," he admitted, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. "But you'll figure it out. I know you will."

They stood there quietly for a moment, their arms wrapped around each other before Hermione pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes swimming with a level of worry Draco hadn't seen since pulling away from his second, terrifying venture into the boy's mind.

"Can't someone else search his memories?" she begged, her fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt. "I know there are other Aurors who can use Legilimency."

Draco sighed. "Yes, there are," he said simply, "but I have more experience than any of them. It has to be me."

"Don't you think getting hurt the first two times should exclude you from repeating this particular task?" Hermione asked, her voice shaking with a dangerous combination of nerves and anger. She had been prepared for his answer – he always was a stubborn one – but his seemingly nonchalant attitude toward the situation was maddening.

"Repairing the boy's memories was always just one part of my assignment," Draco tried to remind her, letting his arms fall sadly to his sides as she stepped away. "Whether we repaired them or not, I was always going to have to search the boy's mind again. At least now there will be other things for me to search."

"But–"

"Hermione, I know you're worried, but it's my job. I can't just walk away from this," he argued, trying to ignore the pained look on her face. "I'm not going to unload this responsibility on someone else. It's the least I can do to make up for all the horrible things I've done."

"You can't spend the rest of your life atoning for the mistakes you made when you were young, Draco," Hermione replied heatedly, her face suddenly red with anger. "If you keep putting yourself at risk to find forgiveness, one of these times you're going to get hurt. Or worse…"

Draco took another step back and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I wouldn't exactly consider this a super high-risk scenario."

"You do remember what happened the first two times, right?" she nearly shouted, tears forming in her eyes. "Or have you already forgotten what it did to you?"

He cringed. "I haven't forgotten, no."

"Do you even care what happens to you?" Hermione asked, her hands now balled into fists at her sides.

"I do," Draco replied, his voice almost a whisper as he looked into her eyes sadly. But even as he said the words, he knew they weren't entirely true.

"Have you forgotten what it did to me to see you like that?" she continued as a tear slid down her cheek. "I couldn't help you. No one can help you if you get stuck in another memory like that. What am I supposed to do if you can't pull away?"

"Hermione–"

"If you want me in your life, you can't keep treating it like it's disposable," she declared, her eyes darkening with anger.

He opened his mouth, ready to respond, but was interrupted when at that very moment, Harry decided to walk back into the room. Attempting to hide the evidence of their argument, Hermione quickly brushed away the tears that had escaped down her cheeks and hastily turned her head toward the floor. Draco, similarly embarrassed, fixed his gaze on a ceiling tile on the other side of the room.

"What did I miss?" Harry asked, immediately taking note of the tension in the room.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly – too quickly – lifting her head slightly. "I just need some air." And before anyone could say anything else, she pulled open the door and stormed out into the hallway.

"Well, that's obviously a lie," Harry said as he turned to Draco. "What happened?"

Draco exhaled slowly, tilting his head back and bringing a hand to his face before finally looking over at Harry.

"She doesn't want me to search the boy's memories again," he explained, pausing to take a deep breath. "She's worried I'm going to get hurt. Said something about me needing to stop treating my life like it's disposable."

Harry groaned inwardly. After all the years that he'd known Hermione, he really should have seen this one coming. "Sounds like Hermione," he confirmed quietly.

"To be fair, I probably didn't argue my side very well," Draco admitted, squeezing his temples with his hand as if to fight off an approaching headache. "I'm just trying to do what's right." He paused, dropping his hand. "And it's not like I can ignore the fact that I've done some pretty fucked up things in my life. I still have a lot to make up for."

"Do you?" Harry prompted, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Isn't that why you hired me as an Auror? A chance at redemption or whatever Chosen One mumbo jumbo you fed me," Draco retorted, looking back at his friend.

"Sure, but that was years ago," Harry replied, leaning his body against the wall as he spoke. "You've done more for the Ministry than anyone since the end of the war – and yes, that includes Kingsley or myself. I think it's obvious you're a different person now."

"I guess I always thought I'd have to spend my entire life trying to undo all the bad I did," Draco confessed, dropping his eyes awkwardly to the floor.

If he was being totally honest with himself, he wasn't even sure if a lifetime of good deeds would ever be enough. Harry and Hermione – and everyone else for that matter – seemed to have forgiven him for his past blunders, but despite his normally calm exterior, he was still struggling to forgive himself.

"Listen, I may not know what it's like to overcome a past like yours, but I do know what it's like to feel a sense of duty no matter the consequences," Harry said, tilting his head as he studied Draco. "Just remember, those consequences affect the people in your life too."

Draco lifted his eyes. "I guess I don't have a lot of practice with people actually caring about me. I've always felt expendable," he tried to explain, placing a hand on his neck and leaning his head back against the top of his hand as he took a few deep breaths.

"Fucking, hell. She's always right, isn't she?" he mumbled after a few moments.

To Draco's surprise, Harry started to laugh. "She really must love you," he said, shaking his head as he pushed himself off the wall and moved next to his friend.

"What? We– she hasn't– I–"

"Relax," Harry began, throwing a hand on Draco's back. "I'm not saying you two have actually said the words to each other, but when Hermione loves someone, she will do anything to protect them. Anything," he emphasized, "including storming off in the middle of an argument to make you see her point."

Draco groaned. "I should go after her."

"That would probably be wise," Harry responded, a smile creeping on his face.

With a quick thanks, Draco strode out of the room and into the hallway. While he had no idea where exactly she had gone, he assumed she had used 'fresh air' literally, so he headed downstairs to the main entrance and walked outside. In the end, he found her pacing outside an alleyway not too far away from the entrance to the hospital.

"Hermione," he said tentatively.

She looked up, her eyes swollen from tears. "Oh, hello," she replied softly.

"I'm sorry," Draco said as he ran a hand through his hair. "You were right when you said I've been treating my life like it's disposable. I have been."

Hermione began chewing the inside of her cheek as if she was turning her thoughts over in her head but remained quiet.

"To be honest, I haven't really had much practice sharing my life with someone else," Draco continued, afraid that if he didn't keep talking that she would ask him to leave her alone. "I've forgotten what it means to have someone care about me," he admitted weakly. "I shouldn't be so cavalier about things that could hurt both of us. I'm sorry."

He took a couple steps toward her, hoping she would let him continue.

"If you really aren't comfortable with me searching the boy's memories again, I'll ask Harry to bring in someone else," he offered.

She studied him for a moment, her eyes lingering on his defeated stance, and found herself regretting her childish outburst and subsequent storming off.

"I know you have to do it," she said finally. "I just wish there was a way I could protect you."

"I don't have to do anything. I can say no," Draco said as he took another couple of steps, closing the last few paces between them.

Hermione looked up at him, the anguish behind his eyes still utterly transparent. "I can't let you do that," she affirmed.

"Granger, you are impossible," Draco grumbled, moving a hand to the side of his neck. "First, you get mad at me for saying that I need to do it. Now, you're telling me that you won't let me not do it."

"Yes, I suppose I am being a bit difficult," she confessed, pausing to bite down on her lower lip. "What I meant was, I know you need to do this. I understand how important it is even if I don't like you putting yourself at risk," she explained, placing her hands on his chest and hoping desperately that he wasn't angry enough to push her away.

"Haven't you done the same to protect innocent people from being hurt?" he asked, placing his hands over hers. "Wouldn't you still do the same?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, her heartbeat quickening as Draco drew himself closer, their faces now inches apart. _And I would risk a hell of a lot more to protect you_. "I just don't know what I'd do if I–"

"You are not going to lose me," Draco promised, wrapping his arms around her. "I won't do anything to jeopardize this."

Hermione buried her face against his chest, taking in a few deep breaths as she let his promise reverberate in her head.

"If you hurt, I hurt," she said quietly. "Don't forget that."

"If I hurt, you hurt," Draco repeated.

He held her against him, too afraid to let go, wishing he hadn't argued with her in the first place. He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to make her sad. All he wanted was for her to know how much she meant to him, how he would never let anything come between them, even if that meant letting someone else do his job.

" _I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all of the ages of the world alone*_ ," he mumbled under his breath, only realizing he had uttered the words out loud when Hermione lifted her head to look at him.

"Did you seriously just quote Lord of the Rings at me?" she demanded in disbelief.

Draco shrugged, his embarrassment quickly replaced with amusement when he caught the look in her eyes. "Maybe," he responded, fighting the laughter that was building in the back of his throat.

"You are," she began, a smile threatening to escape her lips, "the actual worst."

She didn't want to break first, but the sight of Draco biting down on his bottom lip, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back his laughter was too much, and she gave in moments before him. They clung to each other as their voices rang out across the alleyway, their laughter chasing away the remnants of their argument.

"Granger," Draco said after catching his breath, "did we just make it through our first fight?" And he didn't even care how cheesy it sounded.

Hermione smiled, similarly unbothered. "Yes, I believe we did," she replied as she stared at him longingly.

"We should probably go back inside now," Draco said, his lips suddenly inches away from hers.

His words were begging her to be the better person, to keep them focused on the mountain of work that no doubt awaited them inside, but his body was asking her for something else, and she was more inclined to let her carnal needs take control. When he moved closer still, his lips brushing past hers as his quicksilver eyes darkened with desire, heat erupted deep within her belly, and she knew there was no way she could walk away. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew they had a job to finish, but right now, the only thing she could think about was how badly she wanted to kiss him.

"Do we have to?" she replied, her heart fluttering furiously in her chest.

Draco didn't need her to spell it out for him to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, the look on her face was enough, and he pulled her lips against his without another second of hesitation. He threw everything he felt about her into his kiss – his attraction to her, his obsession with her, and his concern for her – and lost control of himself when she moaned softly into his mouth, her whimpers begging him for more. In response, he picked her up, walked them deeper into the alleyway, and shoved her against the brick wall.

Hermione lost herself in his arms, ignoring the logical part of her brain that was trying to warn her that they were still in public, and wrapped her legs around his waist, trapping his body against hers. It didn't matter, she reasoned, his kiss, _this_ kiss, was worth the risk of being found. A growl emanated from the back of Draco's throat as she grabbed ahold of his hair and pulled his head away so she could stare into his eyes. She licked her lips seductively, relishing the look on his face as she heard him suck in a breath.

"You. Drive. Me. Crazy. Woman," he said as he began kissing up the side of her neck.

Hermione moaned again as Draco moved his tongue along her jaw on his way back to her lips, and when his tongue finally met her lips, she caught the tip of his tongue between her teeth, eliciting another guttural sound from deep within his throat. Her whole body melted into his arms as his tongue teased hers, and if it weren't for the position of his arms under her legs supporting most of her weight, she wouldn't have been able to hold the rest of her body up. She wasn't one for potions and muggle drugs, but she imagined this was a better high than anything they could ever offer.

Her hands were buried under his shirt, her fingers teasing the waistband of his jeans, when a bright flash lit up the alley, causing them to tear their faces apart.

"Say cheese," came a slimy voice from the other end of the alley before another flash went off.

 _Fuck_ , Draco thought as he quickly placed Hermione on the ground.

 _Fuck_ , Hermione thought as she saw a man running away with a camera dangling from a strap around his shoulders.

So much for keeping things to themselves.

* * *

Despite their concerns about what would happen now that someone other than Harry and Ginny knew about them – and worse, had a damn picture to prove it – they decided, at least for today, to act like nothing had happened. They had a job to finish and didn't want their own seemingly ridiculous personal issues to interfere.

"Harry definitely doesn't need to know, right?" Hermione asked as they paused outside the door, careful to lower her voice so the guard couldn't make out what she was saying.

"I wouldn't necessarily put this high on his priority list right now," Draco responded. "Someone was bound to find out about us eventually," he continued, shrugging as the words left his mouth. "He already knows about us, so it's not like a news article about our relationship will send him into a tizzy."

Hermione exhaled. "I suppose," she said quietly, not entirely sure that was true.

"We should get back in there." Draco gestured to the room. "I promise, I'll be careful with the memories," he added before pulling open the door.

By lunchtime, Harry had pulled Dean from his other projects to help catalog what they could before the Healers began the process of waking the boy. Draco spent the afternoon dictating the new memories to Harry and Dean, none of which, thankfully, contained any more evidence of torture, while Hermione began to arduous task of identifying landmarks and other features from the ever-growing pile of papers Harry was shuffling her way.

However, as the hours passed, the three men became increasingly concerned that there didn't appear to any other memory of Rodolphus buried in the boy's mind at all.

"Seems weird that there isn't anything else, doesn't it?" Harry asked late in the afternoon, keeping his voice low.

Draco cast his eyes nervously over to Hermione, whose head was bent over a book, before replying. "Maybe it will just take a day or two," he offered, unsure of what else to say. "He's been through a hell of a lot in the past couple of weeks."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Plus, some of these–" he said, holding up pages of notes "–might be actually more helpful than we think."

Draco wasn't sure he agreed, but his pessimism probably wasn't the best for anyone at the moment. "If anyone can find something useful in them, she will," he said, casting her eyes toward Hermione again.

"Brightest witch of our age," Harry mumbled in agreement.

When the sun began to set, the Healers announced that they needed to start administering the potions to bring the boy out of his deep sleep. Even though Harry would have liked to continue, he conceded that Draco had probably found everything that was worth recording and ordered everyone home for the night. If the boy was stable when he woke up, they would be able to return and ask him anything else that they needed to know.

"Are you two coming?" Harry asked, following Dean out into the deserted hospital hallway.

"Go ahead," Draco said, unable to tear his eyes away from Hermione. "We need to finish something."

Harry let out a noise that sounded something like snort. "Just be gone before the Healers come back," he called as he walked out of the room shaking his head.

"Need to finish something, huh?" Hermione inquired, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"Mhmm," Draco replied, pulling her into him. "We were so rudely interrupted before," he said before lowering his head and planting a soft kiss on her lips.

"Well then by all means, take me home and ravish me," she said, much to Draco's complete and utter enjoyment.

"With pleasure," he declared, quickly leading her out of the room.

It was dark when they finally walked outside, and neither Draco nor Hermione were particularly interested in lingering in case there were any reporters lurking around. However, despite their fears of being bombarded, they didn't let go of each other's hands they walked out onto the street. They paused outside the entrance for a moment, only long enough to look at each other and smile, and then Apparated to his flat where they spent the rest of night trying to reassure each other that tomorrow wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been keeping up with this story and to everyone who has reviewed! It's been really amazing to see how many people are reading and enjoying this.
> 
> Translation: Munde ~ mind (memories/thoughts/intellect), Openian = to open. 
> 
> I believe that Munde is more accurately characterized as Middle English (from what I can tell - I'm by no means a linguistic specialist) and Mynd might be the more accurate Old English term, but I liked that Munde differed a bit more and went with it. There seem to be a lot of different words that the Anglo-Saxons used for mind/memories/etc., but since the word itself isn't incredibly important to the storyline (just its roots), I didn't dwell on it for too long. 


	10. The War Hero and the Reformed Death Eater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Strange Love by Halsey, Deadcrush (Spike Stent Mix) by alt-J, and 10,000 Emerald Pools by BORN

Draco tossed the latest edition of the Daily Prophet on the bed and plopped back down next to Hermione.

"Well," he began hesitantly, his hand rubbing the back of his head as he spoke, "at least it's not any worse than we expected it would be."

Hermione glanced down at the headline and groaned.

_The Ministry's Unlikely Couple: The War Hero and the Reformed Death Eater_

"I'm not reading that," she said irritably. "Could they really not come up with anything better?"

"You're seriously concerned about the headline?" Draco exclaimed, unfolding the paper on her lap. "You should look at the damn picture they used."

Hermione reluctantly look down at the paper again and cringed. There, for all of Wizarding Britain to see, was a moving image of their middle of the day rendezvous in a not as deserted as they thought alleyway. Unable to continue watching their kiss play out in front of her, she pushed the paper off the bed and covered her face with her hands. She knew that it was a minor miracle they hadn't been caught before now, especially the way they'd been acting around each other in the dark corners of the Ministry, but that didn't make it any easier to accept that the game was finally up.

"At least you look somewhat composed," Hermione said finally, removing her hands from her face. "I, on the other hand, look like I attacked you with my mouth."

"Well, you did, but–" Draco said, a dangerous smirk creeping onto his lips. "Ouch!" he yelped as Hermione smacked him across the chest. "As I was saying," he began again, pulling her against him, "You did attack me with your lips, but you're clearly ignoring the whole part where I threw you against the wall like a rabid animal."

She glanced back at the image, now upside down on the floor, and realized he was right. They both looked rather ridiculous.

"So, we both look like horny teenagers. Wonderful," Hermione said, snuggling her head against his shoulder. "That's not exactly how I would have wanted to tell the world that we're together."

Despite never having a formal discussion about their relationship, neither of them had been foolish enough to think that what they were doing wasn't dating. They were practically living together, each having moved things into the other's flat, and despite having only been together for a short time, they were about as un-single as either of them had ever been.

"Granger, we _are_ horny teenagers," Draco said chuckling. "And it's done now. We can't Obliviate an entire country."

"You sure about that?" Hermione prompted. "I think we could manage."

Draco laughed again. "Yes, we probably could," he told her seriously.

It certainly had been fun sneaking around with her knowing that no one else suspected what they were up to, but a part of him was relieved that their secret was finally out. Sure, now that they whole damn world knew about them, they were going to have to be more careful in their selection of snogging locations. And yes, he definitely felt protective of Hermione and didn't want people writing anything that would paint her in a bad light or hurt her reputation. But honestly, he wasn't sure he could have kept their relationship quiet for much longer even if they still had the option.

"Just think about all the places you can take me now," Draco said, moving his mouth to her neck. "We could probably get in anywhere with how popular the article has made us." He swirled his tongue lightly over her pulse, smiling to himself when he felt her breath hitch.

"And where would we go?" Hermione gasped, tilting her head back to give him better access.

"Well for starters, we'll never have to wait to be seated at a restaurant ever again. Imagine all the things you could eat," he said, his breath tickling the skin on her neck. "Or maybe we could request that they shut down Hogwarts for a day so that I can fuck you in every corner of the castle."

"You – are – the – actual – worst," Hermione managed as he nibbled at the sensitive spot behind her ear. "You really aren't worried about this?" she asked when he pulled away to look at her.

Draco moved his hands under Hermione's shirt. Well, actually it was his shirt, but she was wearing it and it needed to come off. "Nope."

"Draco–"

"For once, Granger, please try not to overanalyze things,' he said as his hands slid over her breasts and began playing with her already hardened nipples.

It was useless to try to resist him. She knew he would win; he always did. Her back arched off the bed as his fingers teased her, and her overwhelming desire for him quickly buried her worry in the darkest corner of her brain. Nothing compared to the fire she felt inside of her when he touched her like this, and nothing, not even the stupid article or the horrid accompanying photograph, could keep her thoughts focused on anything but him when he looked at her with lust-blown eyes. The look on Draco's face told her that he felt exactly the same way.

Hermione, in a moment of clarity that rarely infiltrated her mind once he got started, pushed Draco onto his back and climbed on top of him in an attempt to take some sort of control.

"Have I ever told you how sexy it is when you do that?" he said, looking up at her lustfully. _And she's all mine_ , he thought, licking his lips.

Hermione leaned forward, placing her mouth inches away from his before running her tongue quickly over his lips. A growl emanated from deep in his chest, and she smiled wickedly as she pinned his hands above his head.

"Stay," she commanded, her eyes warning him that he'd pay dearly if he tried to move.

She rolled her hips, rubbing her center against his growing erection, and smiled as Draco struggled to follow her directions, his body twitching between her thighs.

"Hermione," he groaned, begging her for more.

"Draco," she replied, smiling wickedly before repeating the motion.

"Fuck," he breathed.

"Do you like that?" Hermione asked, leaning forward to whisper softly in his ear. "Do you want more?"

Draco, barely able to speak, nodded. "Yes," he said, licking his lips. "More."

Despite her own impatience to get him naked – and inside her – Hermione continued her torment. Still holding his arms above his head, she began to move against him a bit more quickly, the friction of her movements against his brief-covered length eliciting a series of moans from the man below her. She knew she would pay for teasing him like this, but then again, a little punishment was exactly what she was looking for, and she continued her torturous movements until her entire body was tingling from her own arousal.

Pausing, she bent forward, taking his mouth against her own, and when he bit down on her lip, she whimpered, her need for him finally growing beyond her control. Eager to feel his hands all over her body, she pulled back from their kiss and tore off the t-shirt she was wearing, leaving him gawking at her in admiration.

"You know," Draco said, taking advantage of her momentary pause and quickly flipping them over so that he was back in control, "if I had known that a front page news article about our – what did they call it – _inappropriate fondling_ was going to turn you on so much, I would have made it happen much, much sooner."

"Malfoy," Hermione said, her voice heavy with arousal. "Just shut up and fuck me."

"So bossy, Granger," he told her. But happy to comply with her demand, he quickly cast a spell to rid them of their remaining items of clothing.

Draco immediately moved a hand between her legs, his fingers teasing her opening for a few moments before slowly pushing two of them inside her. She moaned as he teased her and threaded her hands in his hair to pull his lips against hers once more. He relented for a moment, allowing his tongue to melt into her mouth while he continued to move his fingers inside her, but then pulled away and flipped her onto her stomach. He moved the hair from her neck and bit down softly on her skin before lifting her hips and pulling them back toward him so that she was completely exposed to him, smiling as she hummed in approval.

Hermione turned her head to look back at him – every single glorious inch of him – and knowing it would drive him crazy, she bit down seductively on her lower lip.

"Fucking hell," Draco groaned, tightening his grip on her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance.

"Any day–"

Draco entered her quickly, burying himself to the hilt, and Hermione cried out in surprise.

"You were saying?" he asked, smirking against her ear.

"I–"

He thrust into her again roughly, pausing again once he was fully sheathed inside of her.

"I'm sorry," he teased, running a hand down her spine. "I don't think I heard you."

Hermione tried to move against him, but his hands held her in place.

"Uh-uh," Draco warned, his fingers digging into her hips.

Frustrated, she dropped her head. "Just. Fuck. Me," she managed finally, the words leaving her mouth with each of her ragged breaths. "Now."

Either her plea was enough or his desire for her had grown beyond his control, but it didn't really matter. Suddenly, he was moving again, slamming into her so quickly that she could barely keep herself upright. Sex with Draco, especially when it was like this, was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was better than magic, feeling him move so perfectly inside of her, and when his hand met her ass with a slap, her world began to spiral out of control.

His thrusts were powerful and all consuming, and her body screamed in pleasure with each purposeful movement, his cock hitting the spot inside of her that made her squirm over and over again. She braced her hands on the headboard as the pace of his thrusts increased, begging him to keep going, warning him that she was so close. And then, with three more thrusts and another unexpected, but deliciously wonderful spank, her world came undone. Draco didn't stop moving as her body shook in front of him, and before her orgasm finished rippling across her body, she felt him felt him succumb to his own.

"That was fast," Hermione smirked as they collapsed onto the bed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Woman, what more do you want from me?" he replied, still breathing heavily.

"To stay in bed with me forever," she mumbled, resting her head in the crook of his arm.

"I think that can be arranged," he told her.

He really did want to stay there forever, holding her next to him. He didn't care about a stupid headline, or the insufferable reporters that were most likely waiting for them somewhere outside his front door, or even what anyone had to say about them, he only cared about her.

"Draco," Hermione said quietly as she turned to rest her chin on his chest.

"Mmm," he groaned in response, his eyes losing the battle with the exhaustion that was quickly taking over his body even though he knew they needed to get up and start getting ready for work.

"You promise you won't run away?" she asked timidly.

He sighed, opening his eyes to look at her. "Never," he said.

And Draco Malfoy, the same person who'd ran away from everyone and everything after the war, actually meant it.

* * *

Draco and Hermione left for work together later that morning, hand-in-hand, ready to face whatever shit-storm was awaiting them outside Draco's front door, but nothing could have prepared them for what they encountered when they finally arrived at the Ministry. For a split second, Draco thought some sort of press hearing had been called, but when the first person spotted them, it became clear that the small crowd of photographers and reporters had simply been waiting for precisely this moment. Shouts of 'Draco' and 'Hermione' filled their ears, and before they had a chance to retreat, flashes began going off all around them.

"Well, fuck," Draco muttered under his breath, pulling Hermione away from the noise.

When they were safely hidden around a corner, he looked down at her apologetically. "I knew they'd hound us, but this– I really didn't think they'd hunt us down at work."

Hermione, who had spent most of the night playing out every possible scenario in her head, didn't respond right away. "Serves us right, I guess," she said finally, smiling weakly.

Draco brushed a curl away from her face and sighed, wishing he could hex everyone in the crowd without landing himself in Azkaban. "Maybe, but–"

"Are you two insane!?" came a voice from the other side of the hallway.

Draco and Hermione turned their heads to see Harry ordering a group of security guards to keep the reporters away from the interior of the Ministry before he came running over, his glasses slightly ajar.

"Why in the world would you two show up together after that damn article? Didn't you get my owl?" he asked frantically.

Draco frowned. "We must have missed it."

"Honestly, this is ridiculous," Hermione said, tilting her nose up in the air. "We're just dating. It's not like the world is ending or anything."

"Hermione, you of all people should know how much the press loves to make a story out of nothing, especially now that things are relatively calm," Harry said quickly, ushering them further down the hallway. "Why didn't you tell me someone caught you?" he asked, pausing to make sure they were alone. "I could have – I don't know – tried to stop the article from being printed."

"No one has that much power over the Prophet, Harry – not even you," Hermione told him. "And we didn't tell you because there were more important things to focus on yesterday."

"Well, all of this," Harry said gesturing to the madness in the atrium, "is the least of our worries. People are going to start digging to figure out how you two ended up together, and we can't afford to have the news about Rodolphus leaking before we find him."

"So, you need us to put on a show?" Draco asked, immediately understanding what that meant.

Hermione looked between the two men. "No way," she said, her eyes wide with disbelief. "I am not playing this game."

"We just need to distract them," Draco said, although he looked slightly pained as he spoke. "If we give them the photo-ops they so badly want, then eventually they'll get bored and leave us alone."

"You'll have to feed them a backstory that's believable, one that won't lead them to Rodolphus," Harry added.

Hermione was furious, her hands shaking angrily at her sides. It was one thing for the world to know about her and Draco, but it was quite another thing entirely for them to placate the press, for them to let those parasites into their lives.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I'm not–"

"Unfortunately, you don't have a choice," Harry said sadly, knowing how difficult it was going to be for them. "Kingsley didn't take too kindly to being left in the dark about your relationship. These are his orders, not mine."

For a moment they were all quiet, the shouts of the reporters barricaded near the entrance still echoing off the walls.

"For fuck's sake!" Hermione swore, her sudden outburst startling both of the men and a few unfortunate witches walking by. "What the bloody fuck is so interesting about my goddamn love life!? What's next, am I going to have to publicly list all of my former lovers? Merlin's balls, I fucking can't catch a break."

Harry's mouth gaped open, his eyes wide with disbelief. Hermione rarely cursed, at least in front of him, but she had just strung together a series of cuss words that would have made even Ginny proud. He looked to Draco for help but was met instead with the face of a man trying desperately hard not to laugh.

"If you don't wipe that stupid ass grin off your face in the next three seconds…" Hermione warned, looking alarmingly murderous at Draco.

Draco pursed his lips together, trying to swallow the giggles that were threatening to escape from his mouth, and threw his hands up in the air. "Granger, people are looking," he managed after a few seconds.

Indeed, they were. _Fuckity fuck fuck._

"I know you don't want to do this, but it has to be done," Harry began. "As soon as the press backs off, you can go back to–"

"Fucking each other senseless?" Draco offered, incapable of ignoring such a perfect set-up.

Harry nearly choked. "Bloody hell," he said, putting his head in his hands. "What is wrong with you two?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but Harry put a hand up to stop her. "Can we at least move the cussing to my office? I prefer to be yelled at in private."

"I'm sure you do," Draco mumbled, earning an almost Hermione-esque glare from Harry.

The three of them walked quickly to the lifts, traveling in silence to the second level where they got off and moved quickly to Harry's office.

By the time Hermione fell into one of the chairs in front of Harry's desk, the initial shock of what the Minister had ordered Draco and her to do was starting to wear off. It did make some sense for them to provide a coordinated distraction to keep the press far away from the specifics of their assignment – the boy's life certainly depended on how well they played their roles – but it still annoyed her that it was even necessary.

"Anything else you'd like to get off your chests before we continue with this absurd conversation," Harry asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," Draco said, a devilish smirk on his face. "This is bullshit."

For the first time since walking out of Draco's flat earlier this morning, Hermione laughed. She knew he had said it for her, and for a moment, she forgot that she was supposed to be angry. Despite knowing that she was going to resent every minute of what they were going to have to do next, she was thankful she wasn't going to have to face any of it alone.

"Why can't we just release a statement that says we started dating months ago?" Hermione asked, turning back to Harry.

Harry sighed. "You know as well as I do that a simple statement won't be enough. They're going to want to see you both together. A lot," he told her. "If you don't give them what they want, they'll dig, and that can only lead to one place."

 _Why does he have to be right?_ Hermione thought.

"What is it that you need us to do?" she asked, relenting that they were just going to have to do as they were told.

"For starters, you're going to need to attend the banquet on Friday night," Harry stated, bracing for another onslaught of protests. "Draco, I know you're parents are–"

"No way, Potter," Draco said loudly, his head already shaking in opposition. "I will take her on as many dates and sit down for as many interviews as you need, but I draw the line at attending banquets hosted by my goddamn parents."

Harry's face twisted in apology.

"Please tell me this isn't another one of Kingsley's orders," Draco said, his eyes widening in horror when he saw Harry grimace. "Is there no end to this misery?" he groaned, slumping into the chair next to Hermione.

"What is it you'd like us to do at this banquet?" Hermione asked, moving a hand to the top of Draco's thigh.

"I believe Kingsley's words were 'mingle and behave,'" Harry explained. "Ginny and I will be there, so at least you won't be alone."

"That's it?" Hermione asked suspiciously. She wasn't the least bit convinced that it was going to be that easy.

"You'll also be expected to formally announce that you're courting each other to the press," Harry said quickly, his eyes darting nervously between the pair.

Draco and Hermione were silent for a moment, before they both erupted in protest.

"–no way–"

"–like bloody hell we will–"

"–isn't the goddamn 1800s–"

"–fucking absurd–"

"–fuck this fucking bullshit–"

"Are you two done?" Harry asked when they both finally paused to take a breath.

"Not even close," Draco said angrily, his face flushed. "She is not property that I'm hoping to acquire. She's my girlfriend. I will not stand in front of a bunch of idiotic reporters and pretend to play some outdated pureblood game."

Draco couldn't believe he was having this conversation. When he told his mother he refused to take over the Malfoy household, he had also made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with the rituals that came with being a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, including the archaic practice of courting a woman for marriage. He was not about to make it appear as if he'd changed his mind even if it all was pretend, and he was certainly not about to flaunt Hermione around as if she was some prize that he had won.

"Draco, it's okay. If we have to–"

"No," Draco interrupted. "Absolutely not. We will announce that we are in a relationship, but that is as far as I am willing to go."

Hermione, seeing the tortured look on Draco's face, quickly decided nothing could be gained from arguing with him. It was obvious that the request had hit a nerve with him, and so the last thing she wanted to do was to make it worse by insisting that she wasn't bothered by it.

 _Merlin, how can I not be bothered by it?_ she thought as she glanced over at Draco.

"Okay," Harry said, hoping that the yelling would finally stop. "I told Kingsley as much. Say whatever you want as long as you make it clear that you're serious about each other."

"Fine," Draco and Hermione replied at the same time.

After a few more instructions from Harry, mainly referring to the fact that they should not, under any circumstances, be caught in a compromising sexual position anytime during the banquet, they left his office and walked slowly down the hall to Hermione's office.

"Well, now is it as bad as you imagined it would be?" Hermione asked after shutting the door behind her.

Draco exhaled deeply. "Worse," he admitted, his hand rubbing the top of his head. "I was hoping to keep you away from my parents, but now…"

"They don't scare me, Draco," she said quietly. "I'm perfectly capable of being cordial even if they're not."

"They should scare you," he mumbled, letting his body fall into the chair behind her desk. "This is madness," he added as he slowly dragged his hands down the side of his face.

"The world is bonkers," Hermione agreed as she moved behind him and began rubbing his shoulders. "But that doesn't mean we have to let it bother us."

Draco lifted his head and groaned as her hands worked into his strained muscles. She was right, but he was having a hard time not letting the news that they'd have to waltz into Malfoy Manor pretending that everything was all honky-dory get to him.

"Your mouth is filthy, by the way," he said after a few minutes, finally calmed by Hermione's touch.

Hermione laughed. "Don't pretend like that didn't turn you on."

"Oh, it did," he admitted, "but do remind me to never piss you off."

With their heartbeats finally back to normal, they refocused their attention to their other, more important tasks. Draco spent the rest of the day in Hermione's office helping her try to identify landmarks from the transcripts of the boy's memories. Most of them were brief and scattered, but the notes that they were able to work through led them to believe that the young boy was from somewhere in Muggle London. Unfortunately, if there was anything buried in the pages of recorded memories pertaining to his time with Rodolphus, they hadn't found it yet.

"Do you think it's possible that the incantation only partially repaired the boy's memories?" Hermione asked after a few hours of relatively silent and disheartening work.

"Yes, I suppose," Draco supplied, "but that would mean that either some of his memories can never be repaired or the incantation was incomplete. Neither of those scenarios are particularly ideal for catching Rodolphus anytime soon, so hopefully it will just take a couple days for everything to come back to the boy."

"And if they don't?" she prompted, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"Then we'll keep digging," Draco replied calmly, trying to reassure her.

Toward the end day, Harry stopped by to inform them that the healers had been successful in waking the boy, but that he was extremely disoriented and unable to entertain any visitors. Per the letter from the hospital, the healers instructed that the boy be allowed a day or two to rest before anyone returned to question him.

"Kingsley wants you both to leave by Portkey tonight," Harry announced before leaving them alone again, tossing Draco an empty tin can. "This will take you to your flat at six," he added. "You're free to Apparate anywhere you'd like from there, but I recommend that the two of you stay away from public places until Friday night."

"Noted," Draco mumbled as he set the Portkey on Hermione's desk.

It was 5:52 pm, giving them just enough time to finish a few notes and straighten up before they would be whisked away to safety. With the few spare minutes they had before leaving, Hermione buried her head against Draco's chest.

"We could always just run away," she suggested.

"Could we?" Draco asked, knowing that she never would.

"Yes," she whispered, watching as he picked up the small can. "We could go someplace where no one knows or cares about who we are."

"I'd go anywhere with you," Draco replied, holding out the can for Hermione to grab onto. "Anywhere," he added as they were transported away from her office. Away from the reporters waiting to catch sight of the Ministry. Away from the responsibilities of their positions at the Ministry.

"Right now," Hermione said after they landed rather ungracefully in the middle of his flat, "I think I'll settle for you taking me back to your bed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that Portkey-ing from inside the Ministry wouldn't typically be allowed, but I figured that rule could be bent for this particular scenario.
> 
> Up next - a familiar house (if you can really call it that) and some familiar faces. See you next week!


	11. Mischief at Malfoy Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get four songs this week because I just couldn't narrow it down to three.
> 
> Songs – Nonstop by Drake, Burning Down the House by Talking Heads, Stuntin' Like My Daddy by Lil Wayne and Birdman, and Supermassive Black Hole by Muse

Hermione was fidgeting with the skirt of her gown, her heart beating nervously as she looked at herself one last time in the mirror.

"You look–" Draco began from his position at the other side of the room, staring at her in unabashed awe.

"Like a stuffed sausage?" she offered before he could finish his thought.

"Fucking unbelievable," he finished, ignoring her self-deprecating comment.

Despite her protests that something in her closet would suffice, Draco had insisted that she have something jaw-dropping to wear for their first joint venture into British Wizarding society and took it upon himself to have several gowns delivered to her flat. Out of all of the options that he had procured for her, she hadn't expected to be brave enough to pull this one off, but when she put it on for the first time, she simply couldn't stand the thought of wearing anything else.

The sleeveless gown was constructed out of a beautifully draped, deep blue silk. In the front, the fabric was cut tastefully across her chest, dipping slightly to highlight her cleavage but not exposing too much. The rest of the fabric clung perfectly to her curves, perfectly accentuating her hips, only draping away from her body at her knees where it then floated effortlessly to the floor. However, the real drama of the dress was reserved for the back, which was cut lower than anything she had ever worn in public before, exposing the dip in lower back just above her bum. Only two small straps, crossed delicately near the bottom of her shoulder blades, stood between her and a major fashion faux pas, but she couldn't help but feel more powerful because of it.

To show off the elaborate design, Hermione had twisted her hair into a simple but elegant chignon. She kept her makeup simple, feeling it complimented the drama of the dress well, and adorned her ears with a pair of small diamond earrings.

"You really don't think this is too much?" she asked, turning to face Draco.

"Fuck no," he told her as he pushed himself off the bed and moved towards her, stopping to trace a hand softly down her spine. "But I'm going to have a hard time keeping my hands off of you tonight."

"You don't look so bad yourself," she managed, shivering at his touch.

Draco looked unbelievably handsome in his black dress robes, but then again, it didn't really matter what he had on, he always did. His platinum hair was, as usual, perfectly untamed, while the rest of his stunning pale features seemed to glow against the dark fabric of his robes. She could still make out the exquisitely toned muscles on his shoulders hidden under his clothing, and her body shuddered as she imagined how he would look when she tore it all off later that night.

"What time is it?" she asked as his hand finally stilled, settling at the small of her back.

"Three minutes to eight," he replied, his jaw tightening with the realization that they were about to enter the snake's pit. "We'll be expected to arrive with the rest of the guests at the main entrance, but the blood wards will me Apparate us past the front gate, bypassing the security out front."

Hermione nodded.

"Draco," she said quietly, grabbing a hold of his hand when she noticed his sudden discomfort. "It's going to be alright."

He looked down at her, her caramel eyes staring up at him with a level of confidence that he wished he shared.

"Just let me do the talking when we see my parents," he told her before pulling her in for one last private kiss. "And don't you dare think about leaving me alone with anyone tonight," he added as he pulled away with a boyish grin on his face.

"I wouldn't dare," she replied, smiling back at him as she tightened her fingers around his.

"Ready or not," Draco said before Apparating them away.

They landed behind a small circle of trees, and even though the leaves were blocking her view, Hermione could feel the grandeur of the ancient estate permeating the air around them. It was only when she felt a slight tug on her hand that Hermione remembered what they were supposed to be doing, and she looked up at Draco, nodding her readiness to move out into the open.

And even though she felt her heart skip a beat as they exited the trees, she kept moving, refusing to let her old fear of the place control her.

Malfoy Manor was as grand and imposing as Hermione remembered, but the particulars of her presence tonight were dramatically different than the last time she had been here. Sure, she still felt like an unwilling prisoner just hoping to survive the night, but this time, Draco was by her side. This time, she was going to make damn sure that no one, not even the wretched Lucius Malfoy, ruined the night.

It was much colder than she had expected it to be, and she shivered slightly as her body tried to accommodate the sudden change in temperature. However, before she even thought to take out her own wand to do something about it, Draco had already cast a warming spell around her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

They continued walking across the lawn, squeezing each other's hands as they approached the madness in front of the Manor. Hermione felt Draco tense as they neared the crowded entrance, and she moved her free hand to his bicep, her fingers moving softly in reassurance.

They would do this together.

The cameras started flashing before either of them realized they had walked right into the line of photographers fighting to get the best shot of the new couple, and Draco, who had spent the last nine years of his life trying to avoid this kind of attention, would shrank back slightly.

"Smile," she muttered under her breath as she continued to drag him along.

Draco, realizing that the moment for hiding had long since passed, moved his hand around Hermione's waist, and they paused in front of the cameras, allowing the photographers to capture them together for the first time since the news of their involvement broke. Even though he knew it was a necessary evil to keep the news of their mission under wraps, the attention made him supremely uncomfortable, and he struggled to remain composed as the flashing lights blinded him.

When, after a few minutes, he had reached his limit, Draco bent his head down to Hermione's ear and whispered quietly in her ear. "Get me the fuck away from here."

"With pleasure," she replied softly, wishing she could flick everyone off instead of happily waving goodbye. She grabbed a hold of his hand and pulled him toward the entrance, the small train of her dress trailing beautifully behind her as she walked.

Hermione could feel people's eyes on them before they had made it two paces past the door, and despite having mentally prepared herself for this level of attention, she suddenly felt extremely exposed and vulnerable.

"Don't," Draco warned, easily reading her thoughts. "You're perfect. Don't let them make you think otherwise."

Hermione nodded and flashed the man next to her a brief, small smile.

Ignoring the whispers, the couple followed the stream of people down the long hallway and entered the ballroom which had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Soft white twinkle lights and silky white fabrics hung around the room, while snow magically fell from the ceiling, disappearing before landing on the heads of the guests. Four large ice sculptures, each (rather predictably) of a dragon, were positioned in the four corners of the room, while silver trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres glided effortlessly between the guests. A tray stopped next to Draco, and he quickly removed two glasses, handing one to Hermione, before the tray moved away.

"My mother certainly loves a party," Draco mumbled before taking a large sip from his glass.

Hermione brought her own glass to her lips and glanced around anxiously as she sipped at her drink. People were definitely staring. She was used to the effect Draco had on women, and so wasn't surprised to see just how many eyes were busy drinking in his form, but what she wasn't prepared for was how many men she caught gawking at her, and she tried to hide herself behind Draco's tall frame.

Draco too had noticed her audience and instinctively tightened his hold on her hand. "I can read their thoughts from here," he said possessively.

Hermione groaned. "It's just the dress," she replied quietly, looking up at him apologetically. "I knew I should have worn something else."

"The dress is perfect, and you are stunning," he said before kissing her softly on the cheek.

Her body tingled as his soft lips hovered against her skin, but she recovered quickly when she remembered how many people were watching them.

"I don't see Harry or Ginny," she said as she continued to scan the room. "At least if they were here, we'd have someone to talk to."

Draco grunted in agreement. While he recognized many of the faces around the room from years of forced socialization as the sole Malfoy heir, he wasn't particularly excited about the prospect of mingling with any of them again. In fact, he had entirely lost his stomach for these kinds of events and couldn't wait to get the hell out of there.

"Fucking hell," he whispered, his eyes suddenly fixed on a figure emerging from the crowd. "Brace yourself," he added as he downed the rest of his glass. Hermione cast her eyes in the direction of his gaze to determine the sudden change in his demeanor, and caught sight of a familiar tall, lanky man approaching them.

"Ahh, Draco," the man said, his voice overly cheerful as he broke free of the crowd, "I didn't think I'd ever see you at one of these again."

"Theo," Draco said, shaking the man's outstretched hand, "It's been a long time. You remember Hermione."

"Of course," Theo responded, bowing politely and winking. "How could I ever forget Gryffindor's princess?"

Draco rolled his eyes. Besides the length of his hair, which was significantly longer than it had been when they were younger, it seemed Theo hadn't changed a bit since he'd seen him last.

"Nice to see you, Theo," Hermione said pleasantly. Theodore Nott had never been particularly nice to her in the past, but then again, neither had Draco, and she had promised herself when Draco had come back into her life that she was done holding grudges based on past childhood behavior.

"So, the rumors are true," Theo continued, his dark blue eyes traveling back and forth between the couple, "You two are an actual item?"

"Obviously," Draco grumbled as he grabbed another glass of champagne as a tray whizzed by him. Hermione eyed him worriedly. She needed to find a way to calm him down before he drained every champagne flute in the room.

"I suppose the picture in the paper should have been the nail in the coffin, but I never really know with you," Theo said as he turned toward Draco, his eyebrows raised. "Even when we were in school, you weren't one to keep romantic partners for very long."

"And how is your love life these days?" Draco retorted, almost angrily. "Still chasing after that god-awful Russian socialite? What was her name again? Natasha? The press sure _loved_ the two of you."

Hermione half expected a fight to break out, but within a matter of seconds, both men were clutching their stomachs and laughing.

 _Boys_ , she mumbled to herself.

"It's been too long," Theo managed after recovering, slapping his hand against Draco's back. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"I've been busy saving the world," Draco jested, "or haven't you heard? I'm an Auror now, doing all sorts of good."

Theo snorted and took a swig from his glass. "Oh, I've heard. It's all your father has been able to talk about the past five years. His only son, heir to the Malfoy throne, throwing his life away at the Ministry," he explained, a flicker of humor in his eyes. "I can't wait to see how he takes this," he added gesturing to Hermione.

"I don't bloody well care what he thinks about anything," Draco replied, and this time, there was no missing the anger in his voice.

"Neither will anyone, really," Theo told him, seemingly unperturbed by Draco's change of tone. "You two are the talk of the town. Even Miss soon-to-be a Weasel can't stop talking about you two, and that's saying something. She's here somewhere, so I'd keep your head down if I were you," he paused, cocking his head slightly. "I'm honestly surprised you're both here actually. With all the reporters outside this really is the last place I'd expect you two to be."

"Yeah well, here we are," Draco muttered unhappily.

"We thought it would be a good opportunity to formally announce our new project," Hermione added, glaring at Draco. If he wasn't careful, he was going to give away the fact that their presence here wasn't exactly voluntary.

"Ahh, I see," Theo said, dramatically swirling the drink in his hand as his eyes flickered between the duo. "The Ministry always has liked to use the press to its advantage, why would forcing you two to publicly announce your relationship be any different."

Hermione's mouth fell open in surprise. _Did he just…?_

"Don't worry, I won't say anything," Theo said, catching the surprise on Hermione's face. "It's not like I have any idea why the Ministry would force you to be here anyways," he continued, still studying her intently. "Plus, this will be so much more fun to watch knowing that you're both hating every minute of it."

"Theo," Draco warned.

Theo turned back toward his old friend and threw his hands up in the air. "You're not the only one who hates these things, mate."

"Yeah, well, why are you here then? Your father left you more than enough money to avoid socializing with these blood-suckers," Draco said angrily, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

The hurt was obvious in Theo's eyes, but however much Draco's words had affected him, he blinked it away quickly.

"Not all of us have been as lucky as you. Befriending Potter and becoming an Auror have done wonders for your image. And now–" he paused, his eyes darting over to Hermione "–dating a member of the famous Golden Trio. You're practically untouchable. Some of us are still working hard to simply not be hated," Theo admitted with an unmistakable sadness.

Even to Hermione, it was obvious that this conversation was long overdue, and despite the tension in the air, she remained quiet, her hoping they could hash it out without causing too much of a scene.

Draco shook his head slowly. "Shit. I shouldn't have–"

"It's alright," Theo interrupted, seemingly uninterested in whatever Draco had to say. "I may not have taken the mark, but my father was probably the worst of the bunch who did. It's poetic really, that his only child will have to spend his entire life trying to clean up all the blood he spilled."

"Theo, I'm sorry," Draco began again. "If I had known how bad things had gotten..."

"Forget it," Theo replied after downing the rest of his drink. "Just maybe don't let it be another ten years before I see you again," he said, tossing his glass on the nearest table. "Nice seeing you, Hermione," he added, nodding at her before quickly walking away.

Draco threw his head back. "I'm an arse," he said, tugging uncomfortably at his collar. "A horrible, insufferable arse."

"You didn't know, Draco," she said quietly, moving a hand to his arm. "He probably just needs a friend. Send him an owl tomorrow when you're not so on edge," she added. "I'm sure it will be easier to talk to him when you two can be alone."

He tipped his head forward, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "Why are you always right?"

"Brightest witch of our age," Hermione retorted, smirking up at him.

"I always knew she'd admit it one day," came a deep voice from behind them.

Draco and Hermione turned to see Harry and Ginny standing behind them.

"Thank Merlin, you're here," Hermione whispered as she rushed over to hug her friends. "I don't know how you make it through these things. They're horrid."

Ginny laughed. "Well, usually alcohol helps, but seeing as that would be frowned upon," she paused, gesturing at her belly. "I have to resort to making up ridiculous back stories about people in the room."

"She's rather good at it," Harry added with a smirk.

The four of them spoke happily for a few minutes, before Harry and Ginny were whisked away to meet visiting members of the French Ministry, leaving Draco and Hermione, once again, treading water amongst a sea of blood-sucking socialites. They moved around the room together, talking politely with guests that approached them, but never allowing themselves to be separated.

Draco clung to Hermione's hand as if she was the only thing capable of keeping him calm and grounded, and in return, she kept her body as close to him as was socially acceptable – although, it close enough that she couldn't keep her thoughts from dangerously wandering. Each time Draco's hands found their way to the small of her back, she felt like her knees would crumble underneath of her, and while she hated the reason for their presence at the banquet, she found herself enjoying being able to be a couple in public.

Despite their shared discomfort, time passed surprisingly quickly. It seemed that with each person they spoke to, the conversation came easier, and more importantly, the game they were playing became a little easier to manage. It wasn't until Harry found them again and reminded them that they would be speaking in a few mintues, that they realized they had managed to make it through the first hour of the banquet without having yet come into contact with either of Draco's parents.

Hermione's heartbeat quickened at the realization, and Draco, sensing her worry, leaned in to tell her that his parents would never lash out at them in public – which, unsurprisingly, did very little to alleviate her nerves.

"They'll save whatever vile words they have for us for when they can get us alone," he explained sadly. "But I won't let them hurt you," he assured her as he intertwined his fingers with hers.

While his promise didn't necessarily make the prospect of seeing his parents any less terrifying, it still comforted her, and she quickly regained a sense, albeit tenuous, of calm.

Draco and Hermione reluctantly moved toward the back of the room where an ornate podium, embellished with a large M, had been placed on a raised platform. As they approached, Hermione finally caught sight of Draco's parents, who were talking quietly with the Minister, and for a second, she forgot the breathe.

Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to life in Azkaban for his part in the war, but after he provided the Ministry information that aided in the capture of several other high-profile Death Eaters, his sentence was (rather surprisingly, Hermione thought) reduced to five years. Since his release, he had donated a significant amount of money (not that it made much of a dent in the seemingly endless Malfoy fortune) to help rebuild the parts of the country ravaged by the war, and it seemed the Ministry, as short on funds as it was, had decided to tenatively forgive him. Narcissa, on the other hand, had been spared prison time, her lawyers successfully arguing that she had simply been trying to protect her family. Harry's testimony that she had deceived Voldemort during the final battle ultimately led to her pardon, and she had been hailed as an unsuspecting hero by the press.

None of that information made it easier for Hermione to approach, but she allowed Draco to lead her toward them anyways, her arm wound tightly around his.

"Draco. Hermione." Kingsley said when he caught site of the approaching couple. "I hope you've been enjoying yourselves tonight."

"Very much so, Minister," Draco responded. Hermione noted a touch of irritation in his voice, but if Kingsley did as well, he didn't show it.

Neither Lucius nor Narcissa greeted them initially, but Draco didn't seem the least bit bothered by it, and so Hermione tried to swallow her own uneasiness.

"Good, good." Kingsley said as he glanced at the clock on the wall behind him. "Well, I better get this show on the road," he added as he excused himself from the group and stepped up on the platform.

"Oh, Draco!" Narcissa said softly, seemingly having decided it was finally safe to express her affection toward her son. "I'm so happy you came."

Draco allowed his mother to embrace him with a strained smile before reluctantly turning to face the man next to her.

"Father," Draco muttered, bowing his head slightly.

"What an–" Lucius paused, his cold eyes traveling to Hermione, "–unexpected surprise."

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for the invitation," Hermione said politely, unsure of what else to say. Draco raised his eyebrows slightly at her words and pulled her closer as if to keep her out of his father's reach.

"The Minister tells us you have an announcement to make," Narcissa said, shooting her husband a look that Hermione assumed was supposed to be a covert warning. "Are you two–?"

"We are dating," Draco interrupted, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was headed. "We released an official statement about our relationship to the press earlier today, but that's not why we've decided to attend tonight."

"Yes, you two have got yourselves in quite the predicament," Lucius said with a sneer, clearly ignoring his wife's warning. "Tell me Miss Granger, do your parents approve of your recent… extracurricular activities?"

Hermione stiffened at the mention of her parents but recovered quickly. "My parents don't read The Daily Prophet, and even if they did, they would only be concerned to know if I was happy," she said harshly, forgetting she had promised Draco that she would behave.

"Father," Draco growled as Hermione felt his fingers dig into her side.

"Lucius, perhaps we should save this discussion for later tonight," Narcissa said tersely, stepping between her husband and her son.

But before any of them had time to trade any more insults, the Minister's voice could be heard calling the elder two Malfoys onto the stage.

Lucius, who had been glaring angrily at his son, quickly cleared his face of all emotion, offered his arm to his wife, and turned without offering Draco and Hermione so much as a word.

"Don't listen to him," Draco whispered as his parents moved up the small set of stairs on to the stage. "He's just trying to rile you up."

"I know, I'm sorry," Hermione whispered in response.

From their position, they couldn't see the Malfoy patriarch as he gave his speech, but they could certainly hear him, and judging from the applause, the crowd was as fond of Lucius as he was undoubtedly fond of their unyielding attention.

 _Figures_ , she thought, rolling her eyes.

When applause once again erupted across the room, she knew their wait was over, and she took one last deep, calming breath. Draco smiled at her as he offered her his arm, and she took it, happy for the distraction, as they moved to replace his parents at the podium while the Minister welcomed them onto the stage. The room quieted quickly as they walked up on to the stage, and Hermione dropped Draco's arm, allowing him to move behind the podium while she moved slightly to the side.

"On behalf of the Ministry, I'd like to thank my parents for hosting this event to raise the much-needed funds for the continued training of the Aurors and other security personnel," Draco began. His voice was calm and powerful, a trait he no doubt inherited from his father, and he slid easily into the role forced on him for the night. "As both a member of the Malfoy family and an Auror who will no doubt benefit from your donations, I'd also like to thank all of you attending tonight." He paused, his eyes moving slowly across the room.

 _Like father like son_ , Hermione thought, fighting back an ill-timed chuckle. She definitely wasn't a fan of Lucius, and she undoubtedly would have preferred a Lucius-free life after everything that had happened during the war, but she did have to hand it to him; he had trained Draco well.

"As many of you are aware, I typically leave the fundraising to the experts–" he gestured toward his parents who were standing next to Kingsley on the right side of the stage, "–while I prefer to focus on my work." Laughs broke out across the room, and Hermione finally allowed herself to smile. "The money raised tonight is vitally important for the department I work in, but I am also here for another reason, one that I hope will interest many of you." Draco paused and extended his hand for Hermione to take, which she did, and brought her forward next to him. "Hermione and I are happy to announce our new project, the Rose Foundation, which aims to empower those silenced by unjust rulers and systems around the world and to provide assistance to innocent victims of war."

Hermione smiled again as the crowd clapped. It hadn't taken them long to realize that they could use the media attention surrounding their relationship for some actual good, and Harry, who had made it clear he wasn't happy with Kingsley's stance on them having to flaunt their relationship as if they were two-man, non-musical Broadway show, had happily – and rather illegally – back dated the forms necessary to make it appear as if Draco and Hermione had been planning this announcement for weeks.

"I know many of you have already donated to the fundraiser being held tonight, but I hope that we might be able to convince you to also support a cause that means so much to us both."

Hermione smiled as Draco continued to elegantly summarize the goals of their foundation, her heart beating furiously waiting for the moment she knew was coming next. When it came, she tried to ignore the furious flashes of the cameras as he, just as they had planned, bent over to place a kiss on Hermione's lips before continuing on with his speech.

"Building this foundation brought Hermione and I together," he paused dramatically to squeeze her hand, "and we hope it will unite Wizarding Britain against the atrocities of war."

Raucous applause broke out as Draco stepped away from the podium so that his father could step forward once again to offer a few final words. Kingsley nodded at them as they moved to stand next to him at the back of the stage, quietly mumbling his approval under his breath. Their announcement may not have been exactly what the Minister requested, but even he couldn't argue that it hadn't gone well. What the Malfoys thought of it, however, was likely going to be another matter entirely.

With the speeches finally over, they couple descended the platform and were swarmed by guests eager to speak with them. They did their best to talk with everyone, but when it became clear that there was more interest in their foundation than they had anticipated, Kingsley thankfully stepped in and directed the crowd to his assistant. Fortunately, by the time they managed to maneuver away from the stage, all of the reporters and photographers, who had been let inside for the banquets opening remarks, had been forced back outside. It was a momentary reprieve – owls were undoubtedly already being dispatched carrying requests for interviews – but both Draco and Hermione were thankful for it all the same.

However, before they were able to escape back into the crowd, Narcissa found them and requested that they follow her to Lucius' study for a quick word.

Draco led Hermione down a long hallway and up a set of stairs, keeping them a few steps behind his mother as they walked. Narcissa stopped in front of a large set of wooden doors and pushed them open, revealing a large room whose walls were covered floor to ceiling with stacks of books, and motioned for them to enter. Near the far end of the room, Lucius sat at his desk, a glass of firewhiskey already perched delicately in his pale hands.

"Sit," he ordered as they approached, his hand pointing at two leather chairs in front of the desk. Draco's lips twitched angrily at his father's request, but he nodded at Hermione, indicating for her to take the seat next to him. Narcissa hesitated by Draco's chair, but moved to stand behind her husband, worry already painted across her face.

"I'm glad to see you haven't lost your touch," Lucius began, his eyes fixed on Draco. "That was quite the show you put on."

"I learned from the best," Draco replied, rising to his father's challenge with relative ease.

"The public affection was a bit over the top, but luckily for you, it was well received," Lucius continued. "Am I correct to assume that you would like to officially start courting Miss Granger for marriage?"

"No," Draco said quickly. "There will be no courting. We are happy with the current state of our relationship, and we do not wish to further complicate it with outdated ritual and ceremony."

"I see," Lucius said, a flash of anger crossing his eyes. "And what does Miss Granger think of this arrangement?" he asked, finally turning his attention to Hermione.

"I agree with Draco," she replied, careful to keep her response brief. She didn't particularly like Lucius' tone, or anything about him for that matter, but she also didn't want to make the conversation harder for Draco.

"I can't say your mother and I are pleased with your decision to dismiss our traditions, but seeing as your previous relationships have all ended in failure," Lucius paused to glare at his son, making it clear what he thought about the two of them together, "we won't be surprised when this one does as well."

Draco curled his fists in anger, but for the moment, remained silent.

"We ask in the meantime that you not embarrass the family any further and keep your sexual dalliances confined to the bedroom," Lucius added harshly.

"You may ask nothing of us," Draco nearly spat, his anger suddenly growing beyond his control. "And I am not asking you for permission. We do not need your blessing. Hermione is my girlfriend, and if either of you wish to see me again, you will treat her with respect."

Hermione instinctively reached her hand out, placing it over Draco's fist. For a moment, he didn't react, but she relaxed slightly when she felt his hand relax and turn to interlock with hers.

"Lucius," Narcissa spoke quietly. Her eyes were dating between the two men, and Hermione could see the pain in her eyes as she struggled to remain neutral. "Draco has made it clear that he doesn't want to be beholden to the Malfoy traditions, perhaps it is time that we accept that."

"I did not raise my son to turn his back on his family," Lucius said angrily.

"I wouldn't have to, if you would accept my conditions for being a part of it," Draco replied, his eyes dark. "I will not allow myself or Hermione to be chained to things that I no longer believe in."

"I'm sure you know our commitment to a pureblood lineage is no longer as important as it once was," Narcissa told him.

"Isn't it?" Draco retorted, snorting in disbelief.

Lucius took a large swig from his glass before slamming it down angrily.

"You forget your place, boy," Lucius bellowed.

"And you forget that you no longer have any control over me. The Ministry saw to that upon my return," Draco responded quickly, alluding to the fact that his father retained no control over his inheritance nor his rights to Malfoy Manor, not that he wanted any of it.

The two men glared at each other, neither willing to back down, while Hermione and Narcissa glanced at each other in a strange moment of solidarity.

"We have guests to attend to, Narcissa," Lucius said finally, turning toward his wife. "I have nothing more to say to him," he added as he stood up from his position behind his desk and stormed out of the room.

"Draco," Narcissa whispered. "I will speak with–"

"Don't bother," Draco interrupted. "We don't plan on returning. As always, it's been a pleasure speaking with you both."

Hermione couldn't help but feel terribly for the woman in front of her. It was clear she was much more willing to put their differences aside for the sake of her relationship with her son, but Lucius certainly wasn't helping matters.

"The lock on the door is still enchanted," Narcissa said quietly, her eyes filled with anguish as she turned to leave. "Try not to stay in here for too long. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep him away."

"Thank you," Hermione offered as the witch turned to follow her husband.

"It was nice to see you both," Narcissa added before shutting the door.

As soon as they were alone, Draco dropped his head in his hands and groaned.

"Well, that went about as swimmingly as I could have imagined," he said lifting his head to look at Hermione, his face still flush from his argument with his father. "I'm sorry you had to be here for that."

Knowing that words weren't going to help him, Hermione stood up and moved in front of him, lifting him to his feet so that she could pull him in for a kiss.

"I think I know what might make you feel better," she said as she slipped her wand out of its hiding place and vanished her gown away.

Due to the cut of the dress, she had forgone any undergarments, and she smirked as Draco gawked at her sudden state of undress.

"What are–?" he began, but Hermione silenced him with another kiss.

"Just lock the door, Malfoy," she said, licking her lips.

Despite his initial confusion, he nearly fell over as he removed his own wand from his pocket, turning the lock at the other side of the room with a flick of his wrist. Hermione, meanwhile, perched herself on top of the large desk and motioned for Draco to join her. He discarded his wand on the ground and quickly removed his clothing as he walked toward her, stopping in front of her wearing nothing but his briefs.

"I don't deserve you," he mumbled as he moved between her legs, his thumbs brushing against her already hardened nipples.

"Of course you do," Hermione replied, her slender fingers tugging eagerly at his waistband. "Now, let's defile the fuck out of this desk."

Draco quickly removed his last remaining article of clothing before roughly crashing their lips together. His sudden need for her was overwhelming all of his senses, and he moaned her name as she stroked his hardened length and positioned it near her center.

His need for a hard, fast release was obvious, and Hermione said the words that he needed to hear. "Don't hold back," she whispered as his lips sucked at the skin below her ear. "You won't hurt me," she added when he pulled back and looked at her with surprise.

Draco stared at her for a moment, his eyes moving slowly over her face as if he was searching for any sign of unease, but when he didn't find any, he entered her in one rough thrust.

Hermione gasped audibly as he filled her. His nails were digging into her hips, but she didn't care. He paused long enough to allow her to wrap her legs around his waist before he began thrusting, moving at a pace that if it weren't for his hold on her would have thrown her off the desk. Each movement sent a wave of pleasure through her body, and her head fell back as she moaned his name, her legs already shaking from an imminent climax. She reached her peak more quickly than she had ever thought possible, screaming his name so loudly that Draco moved a hand to cover her mouth as her body convulsed with the intoxicating waves of her orgasm.

In a matter of seconds, Draco pulled himself out of her and flipped her over on the desk so that her upper body was sprawled across the soft wood and her bare arse was facing him. He didn't wait for her to recover before he entered her again and began pounding relentlessly, and she allowed him to take what he needed from her. She felt a sharp pain each time his thrust sent her hips slamming against the hard edge of the desk, but she ignored it, instead savoring the feeling of his flesh moving vigorously inside of her. She knew he was close, and so when she turned her head to look at him, she knew exactly what she was doing when she begged him to go harder.

A growl escaped Draco's throat at her words, and he increased his thrusts to a pace that he wouldn't be able to sustain for long. His entire body was screaming in a strange combination of fury and pleasure, and it was exhilarating. Within a minute, it was his turn to cry out in ecstasy, and his hips jerked uncontrollably as he came hard inside of her. Entirely spent, he collapsed on top of her, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair for a few moments before reluctantly pulling himself out and falling to the floor.

Hermione followed moments later, leaning her head against his shoulder as they both recovered. In response, Draco wrapped an arm around her, his heart still beating furiously as he closed his eyes and relaxed into the feel of her against his body.

"Thank you," he said finally, opening his eyes to admire the woman next to him.

Hermione hummed in response, her fingers tracing an invisible line across his chest.

His eyes suddenly caught sight of the bruises that were quickly forming at her hips, and he swallowed heavily. "Fuck, I hurt you," he said, his hands hovering over the hip closest to him

"Hazards of the job," Hermione quipped, lifting her head to look at him. When Draco's eyes didn't soften, she moved to the side of his face. "Draco, I'm fine."

"But I–"

"Shhh," she whispered, silencing him. "You're ruining it."

Despite his concern, she was clearly unbothered, and his features softened as she smiled softly at him. "I suppose he deserved that," he chuckled, referring to what they had just done in his father's study. "That desk will never be the same."

Hermione smiled wickedly. "Nope. Sullied forever."

They sat there for a few minutes in contended silence, willing their heartbeats to slow, before he helped her off the floor and Accio'd their clothing. They dressed slowly, watching each other intently as they returned their appearances to normal. When they were both fully dressed, and significantly less flushed thanks to Hermione's skill with beauty charms, Draco pulled her in for one last private kiss.

"Hell of a party," he said with a smirk before grabbing ahold of her hand and walking back down to the ballroom a much happier and calmer man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I did Lucius justice in this one – he always was one of my favorite bad guys in the books. You'll be seeing more of him in the future, so don't be too sad if you were wanting a bit more.


	12. The Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Seven Nation Army by White Stripes, Delicate by Taylor Swift, and Young and Beautiful by Glass Animals (Quarantine Covers)

"It's going to be fine," Draco promised, holding her hand tightly as they walked into the café.

 _It will most certainly not be fine_ , Hermione thought as her eyes fell on the curly-haired woman seated at a table near the back of the restaurant.

"I wish I shared your confidence," she admitted sadly.

The last reporter she had tried to reason with had spent the last ten plus years scandalizing people she cared about, and she didn't have high hopes for whoever had replaced her. She wished more than anything that they didn't have to do this, but she knew if they wanted to keep Rodolphus out of the papers – and they did – that they didn't have much of a choice. And so, despite every cell in her body screaming at her to run away, she kept walking toward whomever the Daily Prophet had sent to dig into her and Draco's relationship.

"Oh wonderful, you're here!" the woman announced, slapping her hands together excitedly when she caught sight of the couple. "Misty Bispelling," she said, standing up and extending her arm to shake each of their hands, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you both."

"You too," Hermione mumbled half-heartedly as she sat down in the chair Draco had pulled out for her. She relaxed a bit as Draco pulled his own chair closer to her and sat down, leaning back as he rested an arm protectively around her shoulder.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," Misty said, her fingers tapping anxiously on the pile of her illegible notes.

"Of course," Draco replied.

A young waitress suddenly appeared at their table, almost as if she had been waiting for her opening to approach from the moment that Draco and Hermione had walked in the front door, and asked if she could get them anything, blushing deeply when her eyes fell on Draco.

"No, thank you," Hermione and Draco muttered in unison, neither interested in creating a situation in which they would have to linger any longer than necessary.

The waitress frowned slightly in response, obviously bothered that she wouldn't get to interact with the new it-couple, but moved away from the table when she felt Hermione's eyes bore into her with annoyance.

"I know you're both extremely busy, so I will try not to take too much of your time" Misty began, smiling as she looked at the couple from across the table. "Shall we get started?"

"Please," Draco said softly, gesturing toward the list of questions Misty had moved in front of her.

Before she spoke again, Misty pulled a small, back device out of her bag and placed it next to her list of questions. "Is it alright if I record our conversation?" she asked, her fingers drumming lightly on the large, red record button at the top of the device. "I find it's less distracting than trying to take notes as you talk."

Draco nodded, answering for the both of them. "That's fine."

 _Whatever gets us out of here the fastest_.

"You two have known each other for a long time, correct?" Misty prompted after pressing record and settling back into her chair.

Draco nodded. "Yes. We've known each other since we were 11. We went to Hogwarts together," he explained as if the world didn't already know this.

"Is it correct that you didn't like each other when you were at Hogwarts?" Misty asked.

"That would be the simple answer," Draco replied, readying himself for the inevitable follow-up.

"And the difficult answer?" Misty amended quickly, smiling again as if to promise the couple that she was simply a friend offering them chance to tell their love story before someone else made a travesty of it.

Draco didn't need to read her mind to know that this was all just part of her game. She was clearly no Rita Skeeter, but she was still dangerous, and he and Hermione would have to play their roles perfectly in order to walk away from the interview unscathed. More importantly, they couldn't afford to slip up when the questioning turned to how they really ended up together. Their assignment, and more importantly, actual human lives depended on their ability to skirt the edge of complete honesty without giving too much away.

"We were in different Houses," Draco offered, his fingers making small circles along Hermione's back as he spoke. "I was–" he paused for dramatic effect, allowing Misty to capture a flicker of well-placed agony on his face. "I wasn't very kind to anyone outside of my inner circle of friends and definitely not to anyone sorted outside of Slytherin, but I was particularly cruel to Hermione because of my prejudices at the time."

None of this information was news to Misty; it wouldn't have been to anyone. Draco's past actions and beliefs were certainly no secret. After his return, his history and curious change of heart was all people wanted to talk about, and whether he thought this line of questioning was still necessary or not, it definitely wasn't a surprise.

"Just to clarify, what exactly were those prejudices?" Misty inquired, her eyes flickering nervously to Hermione as the last word left her mouth.

 _So predictable_ , Draco thought as he continued the slow moment of his fingers along Hermione's spine.

"I'm sure you already know the answer to that," Draco replied before he could stop himself. "Your newspaper dedicated a significant amount of time covering my past mistakes and questioning my motives for returning home when I first became an Auror."

"Of course. We all know _your_ story," Misty responded quickly, meeting his icy gaze with surprising ease, "I just want to set the stage for our readers who are dying to know how two people with such… _different_ backgrounds ended up together."

Fighting back an eye roll, Hermione's hand tightened around Draco's knee, warning him to take it easy. The interview had just started after all, and they hadn't even made it to the worst parts.

Draco, realizing that he was toeing a dangerous line, nodded and inhaled deeply (mostly for the show of it, but also to give himself a moment to calm down before he said anything rash). "I believed that muggle-born wizards and witches were less than those born into all magic families," he finally explained, grabbing a hold of Hermione's hand. "Which is a ridiculous notion," he added, making an effort to stare longingly into Hermione's eyes, "that I regret ever entertaining."

 _If she wants a fucking show,_ Draco thought, _I'll give her a fucking show._

Hermione smiled at the man next to her as he spoke, trying her best to keep up her end of the bargain with the Minister. _Tell them what they want to hear_ , he had told Draco and Hermione with a piercing glare. _You're going to have to put your dislike for the press aside. Make them believe you're happy to be talking about your relationship._

"He was a bit of a git," Hermione added, realizing she had been quiet for too long. "I slapped him in the face during our third year, so I guess you could say neither of us particularly liked each other back then."

"You slapped him?" Misty asked, seemingly surprised.

It had been Draco who suggested that she bring this particular incident up, and despite her initial objections, Hermione had eventually relented that it wasn't the worst idea ever. And of course, as he had predicted, Misty ate it right up.

"Yes," Hermione (fake) giggled, bringing a hand to her mouth. "He definitely deserved it."

"Bloody hurt as well," Draco chimed in, almost laughing at the ease at which Hermione was handling the interview so far. "I definitely don't recommend pissing her off."

"So, you two never harbored any romantic feelings toward each other during your time at Hogwarts?" Misty continued after allowing herself a small laugh.

"Oh Merlin, no!" Hermione exclaimed (and it was mostly true). "I knew he was handsome, objectively speaking, but no, I never had a crush on him or anything like that." (There was no way she was going to tell either of them about the time she had touched herself after catching sight of him with his shirt off after Quidditch practice).

 _Sure, you didn't, Granger_ , Draco wanted to jest but thought it best to keep it to himself.

"I found her attractive," Draco admitted (and despite his behavior towards her at the time, it was the truth). "But no, I wouldn't say I had romantic feelings for her. Those are relatively new," he finished. (He definitely wasn't going to admit how many times he jerked off to the image of her in that damn dress from the Yule Ball).

 _Why do you look so guilty, Malfoy?_ Hermione wanted to ask but knew it was better to save for later.

Draco and Hermione eyed each other with mirrored smirks, while Misty, who seemed satisfied with their answers, paused to contemplate her list of questions.

When Misty spoke again, she directed her gaze to Hermione, who felt the next question coming before the words had even left the journalist's mouth. "What did you think when you found out Draco had taken the Dark Mark?"

 _You knew this would come up_ , she told herself, happy at that moment to feel Draco's fingers close around her hand again. _Just breathe and keep it simple._

"I was surprised, but he was just a kid. We all were," Hermione replied (truthfully), dropping her voice slightly. "I may not have understood why he did it at the time, but he wasn't given much choice in the matter."

"Didn't it bother you?" Misty countered, her voice losing its cheerful tone as her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "He was one of You-Know-Who's followers. He was ordered to kill Dumbledore."

 _For fuck's sake_ , Hermione thought. _Hadn't the press covered this particular piece of Draco's past enough yet?_

"Well– yes, of course it bothered me at the time," she mumbled, caught a little off guard by Misty's sudden change in tone. While both Draco and Harry had warned her that this would likely happen at some point in the interview, it still bothered her that it was even necessary to talk about any of this. "But he's not a murderer. He never wanted to kill anyone," she continued after taking a few deep breaths.

"Why didn't you kill Dumbledore?" Misty asked, her eyes flicking over to Draco.

"Because I didn't believe in what I was doing anymore," Draco explained (very truthfully) as he had done countless times before, including in front of the Wizengamot upon his return to the Wizarding world. "If I could have ensured the safety of my parents, I would have switched sides then and there," he added.

His answer seemed to satisfy Misty, or at least, she had decided that this line of questioning wasn't going to get the rise she had wanted out of Hermione, and she moved on.

"Did you two see each other during the war?" Misty asked, her fingers absentmindedly tapping on the edge of her teacup.

 _This woman won't quit_ , Hermione thought as she glanced worriedly over at Draco.

"Yes," Draco replied, swallowing heavily as he prepared to talk about the one thing he regretted above all others. "Once at Malfoy Manor when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been captured and then again a few times during the Battle of Hogwarts."

He had never gone on the record about that day at Malfoy Manor, and neither had the Golden Trio, all of them wishing to forget the horror of what had befallen Hermione, and so Draco was hesitant to supply more details than necessary. Misty, however, seemed to sense his discomfort, and decided to probe.

"What happened at Malfoy Manor?"

"Bellatrix tortured me," Hermione supplied before Draco could gloss over the details of that day, her eyes glazing over slightly at the memory. She had spent long enough hiding from this memory, and if they were going to have to put on a show for the press, she might as well give Misty another juicy bit of information to keep her from digging dangerously in their more recent escapades.

Misty gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, her quill dropping onto the table from its position in her other hand.

"Tortured?" she managed after a few moments.

"Nothing worse than many others experienced during the war," Hermione said quietly, dropping her eyes to her lap. "She used the Cruciatus Curse on me."

"And I did nothing to help," Draco added somewhat angrily, surprised with Hermione's sudden honesty, but quickly grasping her reasoning for it.

"Why didn't you help her?" Misty asked, turning to Draco after recovering from their words.

"Not doing anything to help her is the biggest regret of my life," Draco confessed, locking eyes with Hermione as the words left his mouth so she knew how much he meant it. "Bellatrix was powerful, so I was scared, but knowing what I know now, I should have died to protect her."

It was the truth. Hermione's screams still haunted him. While they had talked about a lot of things from their past, and while he had apologized for all the ways he had wronged her, neither of them had found the courage to discuss the specifics of this particular event. Out of all the horrible things he had done in the name of blood purity, Draco wished more than anything that this was the one thing he could go back and do again. He should have protected her.

 _Fuck_ , Hermione thought, swallowing heavily as she caught the tortured look in Draco's eyes. _He's not lying. He really means that._

Hermione placed a hand on his cheek as his eyelids fluttered shut, happily ignoring Mistry as she stared awkwardly at them from the other side of the table, no doubt kicking herself that she didn't have a photographer with her. They didn't need to speak to have the conversation they needed to have.

Her touch – _It's okay, I'm here._

His eyes – _I'm so fucking sorry._

Her thumb, tracing across his jaw – _I don't blame you._

His sigh – _I do._

"Ahem," Misty coughed, her cheeks burning as she looked back and forth between the couple.

They reluctantly tore their eyes away from each other. Hermione shifted awkwardly in her seat, hoping Misty had enough sense to move on, while Draco tried to shove the pain that had bubbled to his normally calm exterior back deep down inside.

After giving them a few more moments to recover, Misty continued. "What happened when you saw each other during the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"Early in the battle, I cornered Harry, Ron, and Hermione trying to get my wand back from Harry," Draco answered, quickly dropping the emotion out of his eyes. "One of my schoolmates attacked them with Fiendfyre," he continued, cringing for effect (although truthfully, he wasn't particularly excited about reliving this memory either). "Despite what I had done to them over the years, despite what I had failed to do to help them that year, the three of them saved me from the ensuing destruction."

"We didn't see each other again until later, when it appeared that Voldemort had successfully killed Harry after their encounter in the Dark Forest," Draco continued, images of the destruction from that day flooding his mind. "I didn't speak to her – I didn't speak to anyone, but what I saw that day made me hate myself more than I could ever put into words," he paused, taking a breath to steady himself only. "I left with my parents before the final battle between Harry and Voldemort took place, and I left home shortly after that."

Misty let out a _hmm_ as she jotted down a few notes on her parchment before, thankfully, shifting her questioning to the less depressing moments of their relationship.

"How long was it before you saw each other again?"

"Probably four years," Hermione replied, thinking back to the first time she saw Draco after his return. "I was already working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when he was hired as an Auror."

His return, and subsequent appointment as an Auror, had sent the entire Ministry into a tizzy. Initially, both Harry and Kingsley faced backlash for their roles in his hiring, but the outcries were quickly silenced when Harry let it slip who was really responsible for the capture of the wanna-be Death Eaters two years prior. Most of the remaining skeptics were won over a few months later when Draco risked his own life to save a young girl who had been kidnapped by a crazed former snatcher. By the end of Draco's second month as an Auror, people were singing his praise all over Britain – even the Prophet stopped their attacks – but Hermione was one of the few who had never been quite convinced.

"And were you happy about his hiring?" Misty asked, once again focusing her gaze on Hermione.

"I didn't understand it," Hermione offered (honestly), "but no, I wouldn't say I was upset about it. I trusted that both the Minister and Harry knew what they were doing."

Misty frowned slightly. It was obvious she had been hoping to learn that Hermione's dislike for Draco continued well past their years at Hogwarts, but Hermione was not about to give her the satisfaction. Draco had been through enough in the past few years, he certainly had been targeted enough during this interview, and there was absolutely no way she was going to provide anymore ammo for people to doubt his position at the Ministry or their relationship.

"Did you interact with each other much during those first few years?" Misty continued, her eyes once again moving between the couple on the other side of the table.

"No, not really," Draco answered this time. "I saw her around, but our assignments never overlapped."

Misty's eyes traveled back to Hermione as if she didn't believe the words coming out of Draco's mouth, but Hermione nodded in agreement. "I don't think we actually spoke to each other again until a few months ago," she affirmed.

"If you weren't on speaking terms," Misty began, cocking her head slightly, "how was it you two ended up working together on something so _important_?"

Draco raised his eyebrows while his fingers tapped lightly on the table in front of him. _Time to sell this lie_ , he thought, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen over one of his eyes.

"I assume you're referring to our foundation?" Draco asked, knowing full-well that's what Misty meant.

Misty nodded. "Yes. How did the two of you join forces to create your foundation?" she rephrased, her voice emphasizing the last two words of the question.

"We ran into each other in a staff room one day, and we ended up talking over a cup of tea," he said, laying out the start of the somewhat-lie they had meticulously prepared with Harry.

 _Keep it as close to the truth as you can_ , Harry had told them. _It will be easier to sell the lie if it's not entirely made-up._

"He apologized for the things he had done to me in the past," Hermione added, turning to look at Draco. "We talked about what he did after the war, about how he had changed, and I realized he was a different person than the boy I had grown up with. It was obvious we were both hurt by the war, and… well things just happened from there," she finished, (purposefully) not shifting her eyes away from Draco as she spoke.

"So, one conversation and then you two decided to take on the responsibilities of running an entire foundation together?" Misty asked, incredulously.

Draco smiled. "What can I say?" he began, biting down on his lip as he paused to take a breath through his nose, "I was already enamored. She didn't know it yet, but Hermione could have asked me to do anything after that and I would have done it."

Misty blushed slightly at Draco's words.

 _That was bloody easy_ , he thought, catching the look on the reporter's face.

Hermione held back a laugh. "I was impressed with the man Draco had become, but I definitely wasn't interested in him romantically in the beginning," she said (lying). "It was obvious we both wanted to do more to help those affected by war, and it didn't take me very long to see the benefits of working together."

"You really weren't as _enamored_ with Draco as he was with you?" Misty inquired doubtfully as she twirled her quill between her fingers.

"Oh, no," Hermione said, innocently (which was by the far the biggest lie she'd have to tell all day). "I was definitely attracted to him, but it wasn't until we started working out the details of the foundation that I realized I had feelings for him," she paused, smiling at Draco. "I kissed him the day we submitted the papers to officially launch the foundation, and we've been together ever since."

"Why keep your relationship a secret?" Mindy inquired.

"It wasn't so much about keeping it a secret as it was about enjoying our time together without prying eyes," Hermione explained, truthfully.

"We also didn't want our new relationship to get in the way of the foundation," Draco supplemented, circling back to the reason they were supposed to be together in the first place. "It was important to us that people take it seriously."

"So, what were you two doing at St. Mungo's the day you were... umm – when you were caught together in the alleyway nearby?" Misty asked, stumbling over her words, apparently too embarrassed to describe exactly what they had been doing when the photographer had caught them.

"We were meeting with one of the Healers who had been there during the war to discuss ways we could help the hospital prepare for any future threats," Draco offered, making sure to give Misty his biggest smile.

Luckily, when Draco had approached the Healer in charge of the young boy's care, she had been more than happy to provide Draco and, by association, Hermione an alibi for their ill-timed discovery outside that day. Harry and the others, fortunately, had not been seen outside of the hospital, and so at least for now no other backstory was needed to cover up Draco and Hermione's obvious mistake of getting caught latched to each other's faces while working on a top-secret assignment.

"The incident in the alleyway," Draco continued, trying his best to not laugh, "was entirely my fault," he paused, smiling to himself before he continued. "You see, Hermione is the most brilliant, beautiful witch I have ever met, and I am completely incapable of keeping my hands off of her."

Hermione laughed (half for show, and half because she was trying to hide the blood rushing to her face). "I can't let him take all the credit," she said, smiling at Draco when she recovered. "I was definitely not on my best behavior that day."

"If you hadn't been caught that day, would your announcement at the banquet been any different?"

 _Well, she's certainly not daft_ , Draco thought, quickly trying to think of a response that wouldn't seem terribly suspect.

But Hermione spoke first. "No," she asserted, her voice calm and level as her eyes locked on Draco's. "We didn't want to hide it anymore."

 _This damn interview may not have been our choice,_ Hermione thought, _but he's my choice, and I'm not going to let anyone think otherwise._

Misty asked a few questions clarifying the specifics of their foundation, but thankfully seemed content with the answers both Draco and Hermione had given her with regard to their relationship and ended the interview portion of their meeting a few minutes later. It seemed that for now, they had successfully persuaded the Prophet's new gossip columnist of their backstory, and they both breathed a sigh of relief when Misty ushered them to the park nearby for a series of photographs they had promised to pose for.

"Pretend it's just you and me," Draco whispered in Hermione's ear as he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her in for a kiss.

 _You and me and every single person that reads the Prophet_ , Hermione grumbled internally before Draco's lips made her forget that anyone was watching, let alone taking their picture.

* * *

"That honestly wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Hermione muttered as Draco ushered her away from the park, leaving Misty and the photographer far behind them. "I really was expecting more of a fight."

"Well," Draco began, curling his fingers around her hand, "we seemed to have appeased her for now. But I doubt we've heard the last from her or the Prophet."

It had been a long couple of days waiting for this interview, and now that it was over, Hermione realized it really was still just the beginning of the attention they would have to put up with as the public interest in their love affair grew.

"Hermione," Draco said quietly, pulling her to a stop behind in a collection of trees near the far end of the park.

"Mmm?" she mumbled as she drew herself closer to him, the scent of him overwhelming her senses as she rested her head against his chest.

"I should have apologized for what happened to you at Malfoy Manor sooner," he told her, nervously. "I'm sorry it took someone else asking questions for me to talk about it."

"Draco it's–"

"No, it's not okay," he asserted, his eyes darkening as the memory of that day once again flooded his brain. "I could have helped you. I should have– I should have stopped it," he paused, swallowing heavily while Hermione's reached up and began tracing her fingers softly along his jaw. "I will never forgive myself for standing by doing nothing while Bellatrix hurt you."

"Draco, you refused to identify Harry. That alone could have gotten you killed. You certainly were in no position to help me," Hermione replied as she locked eyes with him, sensing this was something that had been eating him up inside for quite some time. Perhaps even longer than they'd been together. "Bellatrix would have killed you if you tried to intervene. Or Voldemort would have. There was nothing you could have done that wouldn't have put you or your family in danger."

"It doesn't matter," he said, raising his voice slightly and drawing a shaky hand through his hair. "Death is better than being a coward."

Hermione moved her hands to the sides of his face and kissed him softly.

"What happened to me that day is not your fault," she said as she pulled away, her eyes drawn to the storm swirling in his own. "I survived. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"That doesn't excuse my inaction," he replied, his face still twisted in torment. "I don't understand how you could ever possibly forgive me for that."

"Do you really think I blame you for what Bellatrix did to me?" Hermione asked, seriously.

"You should," Draco replied quickly, his hands hanging sadly at his sides.

"I refuse to hold you accountable for something that was out of your control," she asserted. She knew he would probably never fully forgive himself for his role in the war, especially not that day, but she was not going to let him think that she blamed him in any way for what had happened that day.

"Why?"

 _I love you_ , she almost said.

"You were not the one who casted the curse, Draco," she said instead, burying her hands in his hair after pausing to take a deep breath. "I wouldn't be here with you right now if I thought you were in any way responsible."

Draco was quiet for a moment before he bent his head forward and rested it against Hermione's forehead.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "I really don't deserve you," he repeated, his breath catching in his throat as he felt her fingers travel along the side of his neck.

"You do," Hermione affirmed, feeling his heartbeat quicken under her touch. "I choose you, Draco. I don't want anyone else," she paused, licking her lips as her fingers moved to trace the outline of his lips, "I want you."

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she Apparated them to her flat where she kissed him fervently as they stumbled down the hallway toward her room.

"I choose you," she repeated, gasping into his mouth as he picked her up and laid her down on the bed. "I'll always choose you."

It didn't make sense, her wanting him, but he knew that he had never been happier, and Draco knew he was going to do everything in his power to make her happy.

 _I love you_ , he wanted to say.

"I'm yours" he said instead before moving in between her legs. "I'll always be yours," he promised as he moved his hands underneath her dress, his fingers lingering over the edge of her knickers.

Hermione threw her head back as she felt his thumb graze over her lace covered clit, and when he finally ripped her knickers from her body, she moaned. She shivered as he moved his hands to her thighs, tracing his fingers softly and slowly upward toward her now quivering center.

"Mine," she whispered as she impatiently reached for the button on his pants, released it, and frantically pulled the zipper down.

She felt him shudder as her hand closed around him, and in that moment, she realized she couldn't stand the thought of ever being without him. She didn't care what anyone said. She didn't care what anyone wrote. She was his and she wasn't going to let anything, not even his reluctance to accept her forgiveness, get in the way of that. With a feat of agility that she wouldn't have thought possible moments before, she flipped them over on the bed, his cock still in her hand as she straddled his thighs.

"Mine," she repeated as she sat back on her knees, her hand moving slowly up and down his hardened length. And before Draco could answer, before he could take back control, she bent forward and took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around his tip as he threw his head back and groaned in surprise.

"Fuck," he hissed.

Draco watched her with lidded eyes as she moved her mouth up and down his cock, his body screaming in pleasure. Not once did she take her eyes off of him, and each time she took him all the way in, his tip hitting the back of her throat, he nearly lost it.

"Hermione, I'm–" he tried to warn when the feeling of her warm, wet mouth became too much, but she didn't stop, choosing instead to hum in anticipation as she quickened her pace.

He came hard, releasing himself in the back of her throat as he made a sound somewhere between a strangled cry and a moan. In that moment, nothing else mattered: not his past, not his mistakes, not even the demands Kingsley had thrown at them. All that mattered was her.

"Mine," she said again as she straightened back up, wiping seductively at the side of her mouth.

"Yours," he responded, quickly flipping her on her back before kissing his way down her body.

_I'll always be yours._


	13. Nott-ing Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Disfigured by Rag'n'Bone Man, Fighter Girl by Mason Jennings, and All In My Head (feat. grandson) by Whetan

"I can't believe you still live here," Draco said, shaking his head as he walked through the entryway of a Manor that he'd spent countless days in as a child. "How has this place not killed you yet?" he asked, eyeing a particularly morbid faded mural on the wall that had clearly been particularly resistant to removal.

Theo snorted. "Ingenuity and spunk," he supplied, eliciting an audible groan from Draco. "Despite my dear old dad's attempts to fortify this humble abode against intruders, including, I might add, his only child and heir," he said, placing a hand dramatically on his chest, "I seem to have been gifted with an inordinate amount of lives."

"I always thought you'd burn this place down once it was yours," Draco admitted, turning to face his old friend. "But I have to admit, I like what you've done with the place." He paused, taking a moment to look around him. "You've managed to take the dark and dreary down at least two notches."

"Oh please," Theo exclaimed. "This place might as well be on the fucking sun compared to what it used to be."

Draco chuckled, his voice echoing down the hallway. "It's definitely a lot more cheerful without the not-so-welcoming Wall of Nott," he said pointing to the empty wall across from the front door which had once contained the portraits of Theo's maniacal ancestors, all of whom, he'd been told, had met gruesome, bloody ends.

"Ahh, yes," Theo replied, turning his head toward the wall. "I must admit, the house is eerily quiet without the incessant ravings of Great-Great-Great Uncle Adger, but a man can only take so much screeching before he snaps and sets the entire wall on fire."

"Glad to see you're finally sticking it to the old man," Draco said, his eyes traveling down the long hallway in front him.

Per Hermione's advice (because she was, he grudgingly admitted, always right), Draco had reached out to Theo shortly after their not-so-wonderful encounter at the banquet, hoping he'd get the chance to apologize for his behavior. Theo, bless his overly cheerful soul, hadn't even forced Draco to wait long for a reply and within an hour of Draco's first letter had invited his friend to his ancestral home the following weekend.

Draco hadn't been inside Nott Manor since before the height of the war, but from what he could see, Theo had done quite a bit of work to make the once barely livable place actually fit for human habitation. Most of the paintings that once hung along the entryway had, thankfully for anyone who found themselves walking inside these days, been removed, and for the first time in what had to be decades, actual sunlight was making it through the windows from outside. If he didn't know any better, he might have even considered wandering the halls alone.

"What on earth did you do with all his… _things_?" Draco inquired, referring to the immense number of dark artifacts that used to fill the house.

"The death traps? Most of them are buried in the backyard," Theo explained, motioning for Draco to follow him into the house. "Careful what you touch, though," he continued, looking over his shoulder as he led Draco into the study at the end of the hall. "I found a couple cursed books in one of the spare bedrooms last week. One of them nearly sawed my arm right off."

"Lovely," Draco mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The study was almost exactly as he remembered it, albeit with a few new additions. The walls were still covered in a colorful array of books, many, no doubt, still unsafe for actual reading, but it seemed at least the ones closer to ground had been dusted and sorted. In the middle of the room, Theo had replaced his father's dark, mahogany desk with one of his own, and in front of the fireplace, which used to be empty, sat two large, comfortable-looking brown leather chairs. The curtains to the windows had been pulled back, exposing tall floor-to-ceiling windows which overlooked the large garden behind the house and allowing soft light to spill into the room.

"Drink?" Theo asked as he picked up a bottle of firewhiskey from a small bar table near the door.

"It's 11 am," Draco replied, lifting an eyebrow as Theo removed the cork.

"And?" Theo countered, pouring himself a glass. "Since when is the time of a day a legitimate reason to turn down a drink?" he asked, lifting his glass to his lips and glancing over at Draco.

"Since literally always," Draco said, smirking. "But fine, I'll indulge."

"Good answer," Theo said as he placed his glass back on the table and filled a second. "I have to admit," he began, handing the glass to Draco, "kind of surprised you agreed to come over." He paused, grabbing his glass and taking a sip. "I didn't really expect to see you out and about again anytime soon."

Draco took a sip from his glass and sighed. "Well, I was a bit of a dick at the banquet," he said, sitting in one of the leather chairs. "Should probably apologize."

"A bit of a dick?" Theo taunted, slumping into the chair next to Draco. "And probably apologize?" he asked, feigning confusion. "Did you really just come here to non-apologize to me?"

"I am sorry," Draco amended quickly, pausing to take another drink. "Being a loner for the better part of the last decade has really chipped away at my ability to handle myself in social situations."

"We can't all be perfect," Theo smirked as he folded one leg over the other, resting his ankle on top of his knee. "To be fair," he added, the hand holding his glass dangling over the side of the chair, "I didn't exactly make it easy on you. You know I can't resist a good goading."

"And _I_ should have seen that coming from a mile away," Draco replied, a chuckle escaping from deep within his throat. "Other than whatever it is you're trying to do with your hair, which by the way, is horrid," Draco stopped, gesturing at the top of Theo's head with the outstretched finger of the hand holding his glass, "you haven't changed a bit."

"My hair is magnificent, and you know it." Theo paused, flipping his hair obnoxiously. "And in regards to my beguiling personality, what were you expecting?" he shrugged. "We can't all be everyone's favorite reformed bad boy."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone keep calling me that?"

"Maybe because you are," Theo offered, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Can't say I wouldn't trade all this–" he gestured to the room around him "–for even a fraction of respect you managed to collect for yourself in Wizarding society since you returned from whatever it was you were doing after the war."

"I didn't ask for anyone's respect," Draco said, his voice low. "I certainly haven't done anything to deserve it."

"Haven't you?" Theo asked, leaning forward in his chair. "You could have happily returned home, swimming around in your inheritance, and no one would have batted an eye, but you became an Auror instead, and from what I can tell, told your father to go fuck himself. I think that's pretty damn commendable."

"You make it sound as if my choices were equally tantalizing," Draco responded, running a hand through his hair. "I did a lot of fucked up shit after taking the mark, including, and this isn't even the worst of it, doing nothing while my now-girlfriend was tortured in front of me," he admitted sadly. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I simply went back to my old life."

Theo, seeing the pain in Draco's eyes, remained quiet, giving his friend a chance to talk through whatever was eating him up inside.

"I knew it was stupid to take the mark. I knew it wouldn't end well," Draco continued, "But I did it anyways, and it fucking broke me." He paused, taking another sip from his glass in an attempt to hide his discomfort. "I'll be paying for that mistake for the rest of my life," he finished sadly.

"It could have been me too," Theo said quietly. "Voldemort wanted me to take the mark before he got you."

"But you didn't," Draco affirmed. "You were smart enough to find a way out of it," he continued, staring at the remaining golden liquid as he tipped the glass slightly in his hand, "and I was dumb enough to think what I was doing was right."

"Voldemort was going to put that mark on you whether you wanted it or not," Theo replied, watching as Draco quickly – much too quickly – finished off his glass. "Your darling father made sure of that."

"Doesn't change what I did for that psychopath," Draco muttered angrily.

Theo stood up, grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey, and quickly refilled Draco's glass.

"Listen," Theo began, falling back into his chair and setting the open bottle on the table next to him, "I know you're damaged and all, but you're going to have to snap out of it." He stopped, taking a moment to consider what he wanted to say next. "You've done a lot of good for this world since the war. Maybe it's time to forgive yourself and move on."

"You sound like Potter," Draco groaned. "The two of you and your goddamn forgiveness speeches."

"First of all, how dare you?" Theo quipped, waving his hand holding his glass in the air. "Second of all, and I cannot fucking believe I'm saying this, if Saint Potter is telling you to move on, then you definitely should be moving the fuck on."

Draco threw his head back against the chair. "God, he would love you," he said after a moment.

"I am very lovable," Theo retorted, nodding his head slightly. "But me and Potter? Really?" he asked rhetorically, waving his glass in the air. "He's not really my type."

"I'm glad that's settled," Draco mumbled.

"I'd definitely take the man out for a drink though," Theo continued, ignoring Draco's comment. "Who knows, maybe I could convince him to leave his wife for me."

"For fuck's sake," Draco said, shaking his head until it fell into his hand. "What _is_ wrong with you?"

"Hey, you started it," Theo replied simply, finishing his own drink. "And in case you haven't noticed," he paused, placing his empty glass on the table next to him. "Jokes are how I deal with this little shit-hole I call life."

"Maybe it's you we should be psychoanalyzing then," Draco proposed, lifting his head from his hands. "At least my brooding personality warns people that I'm damaged goods."

"Trust me," Theo said, his face suddenly serious. "You don't want to know what goes on inside my head."

"Theo," Draco started, setting his glass down. "I may not be the best person to tell you this considering I can't stop moping around about my own fucked up life, but this facade of yours is dangerous." He paused, half-expecting Theo to interrupt with another joke. "You'll end up like me if you don't talk about it."

Theo was quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping against the top of his knees. "Do you ever wish you could just go back in time and do things differently?" he asked suddenly, unable to meet Draco's eyes.

"You do know who you're talking to, right?" Draco began, looking over at his friend, surprised at his sudden openness. "And yes, all the goddamn time."

"I should have fought. I should have tried to kill him," Theo said quietly. "Fuck, I should have just done something. Anything."

"We all should have," Draco sighed, grimacing as images of the final battle flooded his mind. Most of their housemates had either, like him, ended up on the wrong side of the war, swayed by family traditions and ridiculous prejudices, or, like Theo, had chosen to do nothing at all despite knowing what was happening was wrong. It wasn't exactly a shining moment for any of them, and it certainly hadn't done them any favors in a post-war world. And in Theo's case, it appeared his decision to do nothing was still eating him up inside.

"Snape was a better Slytherin than all of us," Draco noted after a moment.

"Bloody bastard," Theo muttered, "deceived everyone until the bitter end."

Suddenly, Draco and Theo were laughing, releasing the pent up tension between them.

As Theo caught his breath, he poured himself another glass of firewhiskey. "To the sneakiest motherfucker to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts," he proclaimed, raising his glass in the air.

Draco grabbed his own glass and lifted it toward Theo's. "To Snape," he agreed.

In unison, the two men took a sip from the glasses, pausing to observe a moment of silence for their old Head of House.

"I'm sorry I haven't been here for you," Draco said, finally breaking the silence.

"Can't really blame you for that," Theo remarked. "I always understood why you left, even if I didn't like it."

"Still, I should have reached out when I got back," Draco admitted, leaning back in his chair. "You were my best friend. I shouldn't have let my inability to deal with my guilt get in the way of that."

Theo waved a hand in the air. "Ancient history," he said flippantly. "You're here now."

"I'm here now," Draco repeated, letting his head fall back against the chair.

He had been worried Theo would be hostile; after all, what kind of person would leave his oldest friend without saying goodbye and return without even a simple hello, but it appeared Theo had no issues with picking up where they had left off. _Another thing I most definitely do not deserve_ , Draco thought as he sat there quietly pondering their friendship.

"So Granger, huh?" Theo prompted after a few moments, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "How, and I mean this in the most endearing way, the fuck did that happen?"

"Honestly?" Draco began, lifting his head to look at him. "I have no absolutely no idea. It seems I've deceived her into thinking I'm a decent bloke."

"You? Decent?" Theo said, cocking his head with amusement.

Draco smiled weakly. "That's exactly my point."

"Don't tell me you don't think you deserve her either?" Theo groaned, catching the slight grimace on Draco's face.

"I definitely don't," Draco asserted. "She's way too good for me."

"Well, you're definitely not wrong about that. She's as pure as they come, and you're… well, you're you," Theo said, grinning.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Draco retorted, pausing to push a strand of hair out of his eyes. "I've never been so afraid of fucking something up before," he confessed. "She's– she's incredible, and I'm– I really don't fucking deserve her."

Theo chuckled, but quickly quieted when he noticed the tormented look on Draco's face. "Oh shit, you're serious," he said, his eyes wide. "Well, call the papers: Draco Malfoy's in love." He paused, catching the twitch at the corner of Draco's mouth as he spoke. "And he hasn't even told her yet," he surmised.

"I haven't said the words out loud, no," Draco confirmed, nervously brushing his fingers through his hair, "but I'm running out of reasons not to tell her."

"Then what's the hold up?" Theo asked, genuinely curious. "Unless your guilt has also robbed you of your fondness for grand gestures, I assume you already have a whole thing planned for when you finally tell her."

"I'm just trying to give her time. Her last serious relationship was–" Draco stopped. While Hermione had been open with him about her relationship with Ron, it really wasn't his place to tell anyone else, and he needed to be careful what he said. "It wasn't great."

"What with the Weasel?" Theo guessed. "I'm not all that surprised there. He was always the dullest of the Gryffindor royalty."

"Dull doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of what's wrong with him," Draco muttered, barely loud enough for Theo to hear.

"Good to see your feelings for him haven't changed," Theo remarked happily. "I was afraid you'd gone totally soft."

Theo's comment shouldn't have bothered him, and on any other day, about any other person it wouldn't have, but the implication that he could possibly be friendly with the man who had hurt Hermione, who had taken advantage of her and nearly beaten her, made him sick to his stomach.

"The git abused her," Draco blurted out before he could stop himself, his fists balled in anger as Hermione's memories flashed through his mind.

Theo's mouth dropped open, and it was a moment before he spoke again. "Well, I definitely did not see that coming," he said finally. "I hope you punched him in the–"

"I shouldn't have told you that," Draco interrupted, quickly realizing what he'd done. "She doesn't want anyone to know."

Theo nodded slowly in understanding. "I won't say anything," he promised, "but Salazar, I never pegged Weasley as a violent kind of guy."

"He's an alcoholic," Draco supplied. "Not that it excuses his behavior, but at least it explains it." He paused, taking a deep breath and pushing the air quickly out of his lungs

"Does Pansy know?" Theo asked, his voice serious again.

"Probably not all of the details," Draco replied sighing, thinking back to what Hermione had told him after her talk with Ron, "but they met while they were both in some sort of rehab program. She's definitely smart enough to have pieced together most of the story on her own."

"Well," Theo began, pausing to rub his temples with his hand. "Fuck," he finished, unsure of what else to say.

Draco inhaled deeply. "That about sums it up," he agreed.

"So, you and Hermione are both a little damaged," Theo offered, attempting to lighten the mood. "Seems like a match made in heaven to me."

"What like you and Potter?" Draco retorted, happy for an opening to change the subject. Just thinking about what Ron did to Hermione made his blood boil, but talking about it, even with Theo, was enough to drive him mad. It was better that he nudge the conversation in a different direction, because if he let the rage simmer for long enough, he would undoubtedly end up doing something he'd later regret. And Theo would probably just cheer him on from the sidelines.

"Speaking of Potter," Theo said, unperturbed by Draco's eagerness to talk about something else, "is the Chosen One still hell bent on saving the world?"

"Something like that," Draco mumbled in response, swallowing the rest of his drink. "He's really not so bad," he added. "Definitely, no worse than you."

"So everyone keeps telling me," Theo said with a smirk. "Still can't believe you two are the best of friends now."

Draco laughed. "You and me both," he said. "If it weren't for Potter, I'd probably still be hiding away somewhere miserable or, worse, living here with you," he added, waving his empty glass in the air.

Truthfully, Draco owed a hell of a lot to Harry. He had dragged him out of hiding and given him a job that would have otherwise been unattainable for someone with his particular background. He had befriended him at a time when so many others were unwilling to do so. And, most importantly, he had brought Draco and Hermione together, albeit unknowingly, and for that alone Draco knew he'd never be able to repay him.

"Sounds like I could use a little Potter in my life," Theo quipped. "Think he still has it in him to turn around the fortunes of another big bad Slytherin?"

"You don't need Harry for that," Draco replied. "I promise you, if the world is willing to forgive the former Death Eater who tried to kill Dumbledore, they're more than capable of forgiving you."

"Well, short of becoming an Auror and risking my life to chase after idiotic wizards who want to become the next Voldemort, which by the way, I am abhorrently opposed to, I'm not entirely sure that's possible," Theo said. "But if you were to, I don't know, tell the Prophet how amazing I am–"

"Oh please." Draco interrupted before Theo could elaborate. "That's not how it works and you know it," he said, the buzz from the alcohol finally reaching his head.

"Says the man who's been busy charming the pants off of every reporter in Wizarding Britain the past few days," Theo countered before swallowing the last of his own drink.

Draco almost took the bait, almost, but swallowed his words and forced a laugh out instead.

_He always was too damn perceptive._

"Ahh," Theo breathed, "I almost had you there."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco said, feigning confusion.

"Sure you don't," Theo responded, placing his empty glass on the table beside him. "Just because it's been ten years since we've spoken doesn't mean I don't know when you're trying to hide something."

"I'm not hiding anything," Draco lied, running his fingers along his chin. "Hermione and I are–"

"Clearly being forced to talk to the press," Theo inserted.

"Theo," Draco warned.

"Draco," Theo replied.

 _For fuck's sake,_ Draco thought, rolling his eyes.

"Fine," Theo yielded, realizing he had gleaned all of the information he was going to get out of Draco on the matter – at least for the moment. "You're still a horrible liar," he grumbled.

"Says absolutely no one," Draco rebutted.

"Keep telling yourself that, mate," Theo said, chuckling.

"Now this," Draco began, his finger pointing directly at Theo, "is exactly why people find you unpalatable."

"Are you telling me that I lack the proper social skills to function in society?" Theo asked, placing a hand over his heart.

"Among other things," Draco replied, smirking.

"Well then, I'm fucked," Theo announced, standing up from his chair. "I guess I'll have to find a way to seduce Potter after all."

* * *

Muttering a few words to make herself invisible, a woman, clothed in a dark brown, hooded robe, crept away from the large, dark house toward the edge of the large property. She moved quickly, her wand raised and her eyes darting around nervously as if she expected an attack at any second. When she reached the end of the drive, she ducked under a row of overgrown hedges and let out a sigh of relief.

"Don't tell me you've lost your taste for these sorts of things," came a voice from behind her.

The woman jumped, her foot snapping a small branch on the ground underneath her, but she released her spell when a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

"It's been years since you've let me out of the house," she replied in jest, dropping the hood from her head. "Thought it was better to act with an overabundance of caution rather than to get caught and earn another few decades in isolation."

The man smiled. She had always been his favorite for a reason.

"Well," he said, tilting his head as he spoke, "discover anything useful?"

"They really are in love," the woman told him, rolling her eyes. "Oh, the misery."

The man chuckled. "I guess the papers do get it right every once in a while," he replied, twirling one of her dark curls around his finger. "Anything else?"

"The other one – the one with the glasses – he could be a problem," she added nervously.

"Unfortunate," the man said, moving his hand to his chin. "But not entirely surprising. He'll be dealt with like anyone else that gets in our way."

"He's the most famous wizard in Britain," the woman said, slightly puzzled by the man's response. "We'll draw far too much attention to ourselves if we go after him."

"No matter what we do, we'll be drawing attention to ourselves," the man replied sadly.

_It was far too late for any kind of caution. What needed to be done would be done. And quickly._

"There has to be another way," the woman replied.

The man shook his head. "The time for under the radar has long since passed," he told her. "The child was well hidden," he continued, a touch of anger in his voice. "I didn't recognize what was happening until it was–" he stopped abruptly, catching himself before he revealed too much. There were some things that were far too important for anyone to know, even her. "I have been complacent for too long," he said finally.

"Let me handle it," the woman insisted, reaching out for his hand. "I'm already in place. It would be easy–"

The sound of a door closing rang out across the drive, and the woman quickly quieted as a tall, blond figure exited the house. They were far enough away that he wouldn't be able to hear him if they whispered, but neither of the companions wanted to to risk it. Instead, still hidden behind the hedges, they silently watched as the man strolled down the drive past the home's wards and Disapparated away.

"No," the man said finally, turning back toward his companion. "The order's been given."

"Can we trust him?" the woman prompted. "The one you found to do the job?"

The man scoffed. "Trust him?" he began. "Don't be ridiculous – of course we can't trust him. His connection to blondie is more than problematic, but we can't afford to wait any longer. He's all we've got."

The woman bowed her head in understanding. She hadn't liked involving someone else in their plan – it had been just the two of them for as long as she could remember – but he had been adamant that they use someone else for the heavy lifting. At least initially.

"I can feel the _megin_ failing," the man continued, turning back to look through the overgrown hedges. "If we don't do anything to stop the process, it will no longer be mine to control."

"How long?" the woman asked. "How long do you have?"

The man frowned. "A month or two before the effect on my magic is noticeable. A few more before the loss is completely irreversible," he replied, pausing to inhale deeply. "That is, if I'm not already too late."

"And if you are?"

The man was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning the sky as if he were looking for something, before replying. "I've survived this once before," he reminded his companion. "I did what was necessary then, and I will do what I have to now."

"But–"

"Even weakened, I'm still stronger than anyone we might face," the man said, interrupting.

"They're not just anyone," the woman said. "I've heard what they've done, what they can do. The dark wizard they defeated may have been an idiot, but they most certainly are not."

"Do you doubt me?" the man replied angrily, fighting to keep his voice low. "I know who they are. I know who they've fought."

The woman, realizing her mistake, quickly cast her eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"The _megin_ is still mine to wield," the man continued, his eyes swirling with fury as he looked down at the woman. "And as long as it is, I am still more powerful than any of them."

The woman was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "What do you need me to do?"

"Reporters can be so meddlesome," the man said, not quite answering her question. He paused, pulling the hood back over the woman's head. "Let's not waste your bright and shiny new position," he clarified, swiping a thumb across her cheek. "If the other one fails, we're going to have to do this ourselves, and I'm going to need all the information you can get."

The woman nodded and turned to walk away.

"Oh, and Misty," the man called before she disappeared, "do try not to disappoint me. You know what happened to the last one that did."

The woman swallowed heavily. She didn't need a reminder; the image of what had befallen her predecessor was still engraved in her mind.

"I will get you the information you need," she croaked before hurrying away.

The man watched as his companion disappeared, sighing a breath of relief when he was finally alone. It had been nearly thirty years since his power had been threatened quite like this, and in those years, he had almost forgotten what it was like to have to fight to maintain control. But not anymore.

He moved his fingers in front of his face, flexing them to ease the near constant prickling he had first felt a few weeks ago. The sensation had been dull at first, enough for him to dismiss it as something other than what it really was, but there was no ignoring it now. His ancestors would have celebrated this moment; tradition would have required that they spend the days praising it and the nights drinking to it. But those old buffoons were all dead now, and for good reason.

_It's mine._

Angrily, he closed his hand into a fist, his fingernails digging into the palm of his hand until he felt the hot beads of blood trickling down his hand. At some point, somehow, he had lost control, and since he had never been one for tradition, he was going to do whatever it took to get it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still blown away that so many of you are enjoying this! After next week, I will likely need to slow down my postings to once a week (I know, I know), but I will not be abandoning this story.
> 
> The etymology of _megin_ is a bit of a spoiler (although I can't keep any of you from googling it), but its definition is not.
> 
>  _megin_ ~ rare or supernatural strength, power, ability


	14. Language, Granger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - DARE by Gorillaz, Simple As… by Kid Cudi, and No Stress by Tycho, Saint Sinner

If you didn't count the whole having to put on a show to keep people from finding out about Rodolphus thing, the aftermath of the banquet and the interview with the Daily Prophet hadn't been quite as horrible as Hermione expected. Sure, it wasn't really possible to go anywhere without attracting some sort of attention, but at least no one was actively trying to villainize Draco or break the two of them apart. Wizarding Britain was enamored, and no one, not even Misty Bispelling, had a negative thing to say about them.

One of the more surprising benefits of the public's almost unrelenting interest in every minute detail of their lives was how many people were eager to support the Rose Foundation. The donations had been much, much larger than they anticipated, large enough that they were able to hire an assistant to handle some of the more menial daily tasks required to keep their new project afloat. It seemed that for once, they had both been able to put their unsought fame to a bit of good use, and with each new donation, not even Hermione could grumble about the surprising level of support.

"I can't believe this actually worked," Hermione told Harry one morning over tea after skimming through the Prophet's most recent article about her and Draco. "I mean, I knew the foundation would be a good cover, but I didn't actually think people would want to donate to it, let alone care about what it's meant to accomplish."

"Will you look at that," Harry noted, smirking at his friend from the other side of the table, "you're actually looking on the bright side."

"If you call using the fame that I did not want to get people interested in something they should have already cared about, then yes, I'm looking on the bright side," Hermione replied, not feeling particularly cheerful about that revelation.

"Sometimes you have to play the game to get people to listen," Harry explained, despite knowing that it wouldn't change her opinion.

"I still wish there had been another way," she admitted, pausing to take a sip of her tea. "I hate having to pretend like I enjoy all of this attention."

"I know," he said, wishing he could do more than offer his understanding. "At least Draco doesn't seem to mind too much."

"Harry," Hermione began, rolling her eyes, "the man was bred for the spotlight. A few years in isolation can't undo all that training. It's built into his damn DNA."

Harry laughed. "Yes, I suppose I forgot about the minor detail."

"I wouldn't call it minor," she mumbled in response.

After nearly three weeks of sitting down for interviews and posing for photographs, Kingsley finally decided to relax his demands on Draco and Hermione's public facade. There were no more required banquets (the one had been more than enough to drive them both mad), and at least for now, there were no more compulsory interviews with eager reporters aspiring to be the next Rita Skeeter (although, that didn't stop Misty from reaching out almost obsessively). Still, the Minister made it clear that the couple needed to continue their ventures out into the public eye, and so to appease the boss, they continued to make almost daily appearances in places where they knew they'd be seen together. Which, as it turned out, was really only terribly difficult for one of them.

On one particularly chilly December night, they decided to take a post-work stroll through a festively decorated Diagon Alley, pausing dramatically to kiss in front of some of the more popular stores. The air was heavy as if the clouds in the sky were about to open and release a torrent of snow on the ground at any moment, but Draco wasn't the least bit bothered by the weather. It seemed that not even a bit of gloom could dampen his mood. Hermione, on the other hand, was freezing, and not even the twinkling lights hanging all around them could keep her agitation from growing each minute they remained outside away from the warmth of either of their beds.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Hermione mumbled as Draco happily swung her toward him, the ends of her thick wool scarf flying behind her.

 _Merlin, even living among Muggles for a couple of years couldn't rid this man of his proclivity for theatrics_ , she groaned internally.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, smirking, his dark gray eyes sparkling under the lights strung along the street. "I'm finding this particular part of our job rather easy to perform."

Hermione nearly smacked him but thought better of it (you never knew who was watching), instead biting down on his lip harder than she normally would when he leaned in for a kiss.

 _Ouch_ , Draco mouthed when he finally managed to pull away. "What was that for?" he muttered under his breath before waving at a young, giggling witch who had shouted their names from across the street.

"For calling our relationship a job," Hermione sniffed.

Draco laughed. "I did no such thing," he said, pausing to play with the curls cascading down her shoulders from underneath her wool hat. "I like showing you off," he added, moving a thumb over her lips.

For a moment, Hermione forgot where she was and let her eyes close, her breath quickening as his thumb lingered suggestively on her bottom lip.

"Careful, Granger," he teased, his breath tickling her as he leaned forward to speak quietly in her ear. "People are watching."

His words brought her back to the present, and she quickly opened her eyes, her heart fluttering uncontrollably against her chest. Shaking her head, she pulled him further down the street, trying her best to ignore the prying eyes that continued to follow them as they walked.

"I can't believe we still have to gallivant around like we're some sort of circus act," she muttered, her cheeks rosy from the cold. "I'll be happy when we can just go back to how things were."

"It could be worse," Draco replied, pulling them to a stop so that he could brush his hand against her cheek. "Kingsley could have ordered us to attend more of those god-awful society banquets."

 _Yes,_ Hermione thought. _That definitely would have been worse._

"I just don't understand why we have to continue putting on a show for everyone," she said as Draco moved behind her, wrapping her in his arms. "We've clearly done enough to convince everyone that this–" she paused, gesturing at the two of them "–is real."

"You think this is a show?" Draco asked, prompting Hermione to lean her head back against his shoulder. "You know I can't keep my hands off of you," he added as he placed a kiss on her neck.

A shiver ran down her spine as his lips met her skin."If you keep doing that, I'm not responsible for what happens next," she warned, her heart racing once again.

Draco ignored her and continued kissing his way up her neck until he met the space behind her ear, pausing to nibble softly at the sensitive skin before pulling away and finally taking note of where there were.

"You would threaten to get me naked outside of this place," he whispered in her ear, nodding his head toward the shop they had inadvertently stopped in front of.

Hermione followed Draco's gaze, nearly choking when she realized they were standing in front of Flourish and Blotts.

"Merlin, I really can't take you anywhere," she grumbled, blushing.

"Oh, don't pretend like you don't remember what happened the last time we were around a large collection of books," Draco retorted, clearly enjoying making her uncomfortable. "You practically attacked me."

Hermione snorted. _Always so dramatic._

"I didn't take you for a liar, Malfoy," she retorted, turning around in his arms.

"Au contraire," he began with a smile, "I believe it was you who put your hands down my pants not the other way around."

"I– I only did that– you started–" she began, stumbling over her words as Draco stared at her with an impish grin on his face. "You know what, it doesn't matter," she amended, realizing there really was no point in trying to argue with him. "Why are you always so bloody difficult?"

"Difficult!?" he exclaimed, jokingly. "How dare you?"

"For fuck's sake," Hermione mumbled, rolling her eyes.

"Language, Granger," Draco admonished, still smiling his perfectly stupid smile. "You wouldn't want the world to know how dirty that mouth is of yours," he added, looking around.

As much as she wanted to ignore him, to chastise him somehow for being so childish, she couldn't resist that damn smile, and so instead, she looked up into his eyes with the best innocent schoolgirl look so she could muster.

_Two can play this game._

"You know," she began, pausing to lick her lips, her tongue lingering in the space between them just long enough to make his pupils dilate, "maybe you should take me home and punish me then."

Draco, who suddenly found himself harder than he wanted to be in the middle of a not so deserted Diagon Alley, could only gawk in response.

 _Got him_ , Hermione thought, smirking as she caught sight of the obvious bulge in his pants.

"Fucking hell, woman," he finally managed, attempting to discreetly adjust himself. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Well, don't go dying on me just yet," Hermione told him. "At least not before I put that tongue of yours to good use one last time."

Draco nearly growled. "Oh, you're going to pay for that," he warned, not waiting for her response before taking out his wand and Apparating them to his flat.

Of course, being as preoccupied with each other as they were, neither of them noticed that the young witch had followed them down the street. And even if they had, they might not have thought anything of it. But perhaps the worst of it was that they were gone by the time she threw her hands over her face and quickly fled down a dark alley, her features reverting back to their original shape.

(Timing is a bitch, isn't it?)

While their showboating had proven to be rather successful at keeping Rodolphus out of the news, the hunt for him, unfortunately, had not been as fruitful. The young boy he had attacked was thankfully awake and healthy, but there were still large gaps in his memory that no amount of healing potions or spells could recover. Not even the remaining spells on Hermione's list were capable of revealing anything new. Harry refused to subject the boy to any more Legilimency now that he was awake and, to keep the press as far away from St. Mungo's as possible, he had relegated Draco and Hermione to research back at the Ministry.

It was frustrating work, digging through the notes that had been frantically recorded as Draco searched the boy's memories for the final time, and as the weeks passed, it became difficult for either of them to remain optimistic. None of the new memories appeared to be linked in any way to Rodolphus, and no matter how hard they tried, they still couldn't seem to identify how the boy had fallen into the arms of a maniacal Death Eater. Each time they thought they might have a lead, the memory would turn out to be something from earlier in the boy's life, and they would be back to square one. And no one took the lack of progress harder than Hermione.

"Fuck!" she yelled late one afternoon, angrily throwing the pile of papers she had been holding on the ground.

Draco, who had been working through his own pile as he sat on the floor propped against the side of the desk, looked up, somewhat startled by Hermione's sudden outburst.

"Hermione?"

She huffed angrily as she paced the floor next to her desk. "It's been weeks, Draco. Weeks! And we're no closer to figuring out where Rodolphus is or how the boy came into contact with him," she exclaimed. "Why the fuck haven't we fucking figured anything out?"

Thinking better of making a joke about her choice of words, Draco raised an eyebrow slightly and pushed himself onto his feet. There was a look of panic on her face, and he knew if he didn't find a way to snap her out of it, she would spend the rest of the night blaming herself for things that were completely out of her control. She barely seemed to register his presence as he stood there studying her, and when her pacing brought her within his reach, he placed his hands on her shoulders and halted her movement.

"Hermione," he began again, his thumbs rubbing along the top of her shoulders as he bent his head to look her in the eyes, "I know you're frustrated and I know this whole process has been slow, but you have to stop putting so much pressure on yourself."

She looked up at him, acknowledging that she had heard him, but didn't respond right away, instead chewing nervously at the inside of her cheek.

"Slow?" she said finally. "This isn't slow, it's fucking glacial."

"We have hundreds of memories we didn't have before," he tried to assure her. "There's bound to be something useful in one of them. It's just going to take some time."

"It's my fault we haven't found anything," she mumbled, ignoring his comment, her eyes glazing over as if she was looking beyond him into a different dimension. "If the memory charm had really worked, we would have found him already."

Draco sighed. "You accomplished something none of the Healers could," he told her for what felt the millionth time. "The boy is awake because you restored enough of his memories to stabilize him. You gave him back his sanity."

"I don't know why Harry thought I could do this," she muttered, continuing along her downward spiral as if Draco wasn't talking to her. "I can't even figure out how to reverse the memory charm I placed on my own parents. He shouldn't have trusted me to do this."

"Hermione–" Draco started but stopped when he saw tears beginning to fall down her face.

Not knowing what else to say, he wrapped her in her arms and let her cry, her body shaking against his chest as she let out the frustration that had been boiling inside of her all day. The past few weeks hadn't been easy for anyone on the team tasked with hunting down Rodolphus, but Hermione had taken the news that the memory charm had only partially reversed the damage to the boy's mind particularly hard. If he couldn't find a way to reassure her, to make her understand that she had already done more than everyone else combined, Draco feared that the stress she was putting on herself would cause her to come completely unhinged.

He held her, rubbing her back softly until her breathing finally returned to normal.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said after a few minutes, pausing to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. "I don't know why I keep getting so emotional about this."

Draco placed a kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo as he tucked her head under his chin.

"You care, that's why," he replied, sweetly.

"And you don't?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"You know that I do – we all do," he answered, his gaze fixed on the toffee-colored eyes staring back at him. "Injustice doesn't sit well with you, and you're frustrated because you feel like you haven't made any progress to rectify that injustice," he continued, smiling at her softly. "But you have."

Hermione sighed and wiped the remaining tears away from her face.

"I just wish this was easier," she confessed, not quite willing to tell him that he was right. And he was, she begrudgingly admitted, right.

"If it was easy, the Ministry would have caught him years ago," Draco said, running a hand along the side of her face, his thumb tracing the outline of her jaw. "You helped defeat one of the most dangerous dark wizards of all time. You've helped take down other horrible people, and you will–" he paused for emphasis "–be responsible for finding others, including Rodolphus."

"Harry was the one–"

"Don't even think about it," Draco interrupted, knowing exactly what she was about to say.

"But it wasn't–"

"Nope."

"I didn't–"

"Granger!"

"I just–"

"If you try to tell me that you had nothing to do with Voldemort's defeat one more time," he warned, pausing to smirk before finishing his thought, "I'm going to have to gag you."

Hermione, who had spent the better part of the last 30 minutes overcome with irrationally self-directed anger, began laughing so hard that her sides hurt.

"There she is," Draco said, chuckling as he watched her face soften, happiness quickly flooding back into her eyes.

"I can– not– believe– you just– said– that," she managed, one arm clutching her stomach she struggled to breathe while the other clung to his shoulder.

"It worked didn't it?" Draco replied, grinning.

 _Fuck, I want to make her laugh like this for the rest of my life_ , he thought before taking her head in his hands and leaning forward to kiss her.

It wasn't fair, what his lips did to her, and Hermione tried to tell him as much, but found herself completely incapable of doing anything more than mutter incoherently into his mouth.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, pulling away with a smile on his face, "did you say something?"

"It's not–" Hermione began, but stopped when his stupidly perfect smile triggered a familiar rush of butterflies to her stomach. "Fuck it, doesn't matter," she breathed, burying her fingers in his hair.

"Tsk, tsk," Draco admonished. "Language, Granger"

"You're the worst," she retorted, knowing full well there were three other words she'd like to say to him but just didn't quite yet have the courage.

The holidays came and went, their work and the demands on their time keeping either of them from fully enjoying the festivities. They spent Christmas morning with Harry and Ginny, laughing as James and Albus sprinted around the house with their new toys, and carved out the rest of the day for themselves, snuggling in front of the fireplace in Hermione's flat as they read each other their favorite Christmas stories. It wasn't much of a celebration – they had been so preoccupied with finding Rodolphus that they barely remembered to get a tree – but they cherished their first big holiday together all the same. Hermione would certainly never forget how low Draco's jaw dropped when she sashayed into the bedroom wearing nothing but a red lace lingerie set and a pair of matching thigh-highs.

"Happy Christmas," Hermione said, attempting to lean her body seductively against the bathroom door.

Draco, who was already sitting on the bed, looked up from his book, his eyes widening when he caught sight of her.

"I thought we said no presents," he said finally, pausing to remove his glasses.

"Oh, does that mean you want me to take this off?" she replied, taking a step back into the bathroom.

The mere threat of her taking off that outfit without him stirred something in Draco, and he jumped out of bed, quickly closing the distance between them.

"Don't you fucking dare," he said, burying a hand in her hair. "Plus," he continued, using his free hand to place a small wrapped gift in her hand as he leaned in closer, "I got you something too. It probably won't match–" he paused, gesturing at her outfit, "–but I think it will do."

Hermione closed her hand around the package and eyed him suspiciously.

"Where in the world were you hiding this?" she inquired, referring to the fact that he was completely starkers.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, pulling her closer. "Open it."

She hesitated only for a moment before tearing off the shiny red wrapping paper, revealing a small velvet box.

"Malfoy, I swear to Godric if you spent–"

"Just open the damn box," he interrupted, rolling his eyes.

What Hermione found when she finally opened the box was not what she expected. In fact, if she hadn't pulled it out of the box and felt the weight of it in her hand, she wouldn't have even believed it was real. But there it was, one of her old S.P.E.W. badges, and she didn't know quite what to say.

"How?" she managed after a few moments, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"I found it in the Room of Hidden Things during our sixth year," Draco explained, nervously draping a hand behind his neck. "I can't really explain why I hung onto it all these years, or why I even took it in the first place, but I– well, I wanted you to have it back."

A tear escaped down Hermione's cheek. It would have been one thing (and certainly not surprising) to learn that he had spent a significant amount of time (and money) hunting the badge down, but this, knowing that it had stayed with him even after all the years since their time at Hogwarts, even despite hating each other when he had found it, was another thing entirely.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad," Draco said, brushing away the tear on her cheek.

Hermione shook her head. "Not sad," she told him. "Draco, this is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me."

"I thought you could use it as inspiration," he explained, brushing a curl behind her ear. "That it could serve as a reminder for all the good you've done."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, tears still building in the corner of her eyes.

"Thank you," Hermione said finally, unable to look away from him. "I love it."

Draco smiled. "Good," he replied, his eyes sparkling as he returned her gaze. "Does this mean that I win Christmas?"

She wanted to say no. She really did. She wanted to roll her eyes and pretend like his gift hadn't affected her as deeply as it did, but she couldn't. Instead, she stared at him with such longing that even a stranger would have been able to figure out what she was going to do next.

"Get on the fucking bed," she commanded, licking her lips.

"I'll take that as a yes," Draco said, swiftly complying.

The New Year passed just as quickly as the rest of the holidays, and despite Harry and Ginny's insistence that they make an appearance at the Ministry's infamous end of the year base, neither of them had the energy to socialize. Instead, they curled up under a few blankets on Hermione's roof, laughing with each other as they sipped on some mulled wine. They didn't even make it to the fireworks before Draco had divested them of their clothing, whispering her name as he sheathed himself inside her. Hermione didn't even notice the cheers from the street below as the clock inched closer to midnight – she was too busy trying to keep herself from screaming as she came undone – nor did she see the fireworks when the countdown ended. In that moment, nothing else mattered except what they shared together, and at least for Hermione, what Draco was doing with his tongue.

And it's really too bad, because if either of them had been paying attention, if either of them had managed to look out as the fireworks went off around them, they might have noticed the figure watching them from the shadows of the rooftop across the street.

(Timing may be a bitch, but forgetting to mind your surroundings is something else entirely).

With the holidays behind them, they refocused much of their attention on the Munde Openian memory incantation, desperately hoping that they might uncover something they had previously missed. However, all they managed to learn was that as languages evolved so too did the nature of how words were bound to magic, and Hermione found herself confused all over again as to how or why the charm was able to repair any of the boy's memories in the first place.

"Do you think the boy's memories could have been attacked by something ancient?" Hermione asked Draco one morning before they managed to get themselves out of bed for work.

"I suppose it's possible," he said as he ran his finger up and down Hermione's spine.

Honestly, it was a little early for this kind of talk, but if she was going to bring their work home, he really had no reason to complain so long as they were naked while they did it.

"Would a horcrux be able to cause this much damage?" he asked after a moment.

"Voldemort's horcruxes were capable of defending themselves," Hermione answered quietly, her cheek pressed against his chest while his heart beat steadily below. "Ginny was controlled by Tom Riddle's Diary, and the others… they weren't so eager to be destroyed."

A guttural 'hmmm' escaped Draco's throat, but he otherwise remained quiet.

"Do you think a horcrux did this?" she asked, curiously, her fingers tracing the outline of his bicep.

"No," he answered quickly, shaking his head. "I don't think we can necessarily rule out the possibility that one harmed the boy, but I am having a hard time reconciling the idea with the memory of Rodolphus," he paused, moving a hand to play with her curls that were sprawled over the side of his body. "If the boy came into contact with a horcrux, or something like it, why would Rodolphus be involved? Why would he torture the boy? It seems more likely to me that the boy was harmed by a curse than a cursed object."

Hermione sighed in agreement. "I doubt Voldemort would have taught Rodolphus how to create one anyways," she said quietly, moving her fingers to the curves of his chest. "Maybe the curse is what's ancient. Maybe the incantation revealed some of the boy's memories because the words are more similar to whatever curse Rodolphus used than anything we use now," she postulated.

"That seems more plausible," Draco responded. "But it's still puzzling."

"It certainly doesn't help narrow down the possibilities," Hermione agreed before turning to look up at him, resting her chin on his chest.

He could see _that_ look in her eyes, the look that so often preceded the emotional spirals that seemed to be plaguing her more and more frequently these days, and he decided it was time to run interference. Her big, beautiful brain would just have to rest for a little.

"Granger, it's okay to not save the world every single day of your life," he said softly, moving his hand to run through the curls on top of her head. "We will figure this out."

"I wished I shared your confidence," she admitted sadly.

Draco smiled (his stupidly, perfect smile that really only could mean one thing). "I'm only confident because I have you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she said, waving her hand in the air.

"Don't 'oh, please' me," he retorted. "It's the truth."

"Mhmm," Hermione mumbled, doubtfully, before glancing over at the clock beside the bed. "We're going to be late," she groaned when she noticed the time.

She made a move to get out of bed, but Draco, who wasn't quite ready for her to leave, tightened his hold on her.

"And where do you think you're going," he asked, his eyes sparkling as if they were made of freshly polished silver.

"I need to shower," she replied, squirming in his arms. "Then there's this little thing called work. You may have heard of it."

"Work?" he asked, feigning confusion. "Doesn't ring a bell," he added, shaking his head.

Hermione went slack in arms, hoping that if she distracted him long enough, she could find a way to wiggle out of his grasp.

"Not surprising," she quipped, sneaking a hand down his body. "Malfoys aren't exactly known for their–" she paused, tilting her head mischievously "–work ethic."

"How dare you," Draco admonished. "Words hurt, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. _Always so dramatic._

"I'll have you know–"

Her hand reached its destination between his thighs and she closed her fist around him threateningly.

"Fucking hell!" Draco exclaimed, finally releasing her from his hold.

"Language, Malfoy," she admonished before kissing him and quickly racing off to the bathroom before he could recover.

Most of their work conversations went similarly. Hermione frustrated that she couldn't figure something out, and Draco insisting that she would before distracting her with some facet of his deadly charm. Without him by her side, she would have driven herself mad with worry and insomnia, but his presence calmed her. She felt safe with him, safer than she had ever felt with anyone else, and somehow, starting and ending each day in his arms made everything better.

So, when she started to feel a little strange, she thought it was just the stress of the past few weeks finally catching up with her, that being forced to live her life appeasing the public while struggling with the failures of her assignment had just become too much. She thought it would pass, that after a few days she would be back to her old self. Everything always felt better in Draco's arms, and so she ignored the signs her body was giving her that something was off because, in her mind, his touch could cure anything.

But that was before everything came crashing down, and after, well, after she would have given anything for things to go back to how they were, banquet and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggled a bunch with this one but didn't really feel I was unhappy enough with it to delay posting… so here it is, even if it is a bit imperfect. I won't say much else except that this chapter is meant to be somewhat of a palate cleanser before I toss you headfirst into some much heavier stuff (laughs nervously).


	15. (Un)Expecting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Conscious by Broods, So High by Ghost Loft, and Fallen From Your Arms by Bob Moses

The timer on Hermione's watch went off, and she sat there unmoving, too afraid to look down and see the results that were waiting for her. She stared forward at the wall, barely blinking, barely doing anything but listening to the suddenly overwhelming thud of her heartbeat, but after a few minutes, the shame in not being able to face the truth settled in, and she finally mustered to courage to glance at the white stick in her hands.

_Fuck._

Two bold, red lines stared back at her.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Tossing the test on the floor next to the pile of other Muggle pregnancy tests that were already piled near her feet, she threw her head into her hands. There was no way to pretend this wasn't real; the dozens of tests she had taken over the past few hours, Muggle and magical alike, told her it was very real. She was pregnant, and she had absolutely no idea what to do.

It's not that she was afraid of being a mother – it was quite the opposite actually – but how could she have let this happen now?

She had been taking the potion for years, but mistakes certainly could happen. And while she was normally diligent about taking it every single day, she could still think of a handful of times she had taken it late or forgotten it completely over the past few weeks.

Obviously, she should have been more careful.

As unexpected as the news was, she knew she was mature enough to handle the responsibility of a child, to handle the shame people would try to make her feel for being an unwed expectant mother, but her stomach twisted in knots as she thought about Draco. They had only been together for a couple of months, and she doubted having a child with her was something he had been planning to happen anytime soon (if at all). It hadn't even been a topic of discussion, and there was no way for her to predict how he might react to the news.

Her mind was racing. She sat on the edge of the tub in her bathroom, but the more she thought about telling him, the more she convinced herself that if there was anything that would cause him to leave her, it would be this.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she completely missed the sound of the front door slamming shut.

"Hermione?" Draco's voice called from the kitchen, yanking her back to reality.

 _Fuck,_ she thought as she cast her gaze nervously to the collection of tests strewn below her on the bathroom floor. _I don't know how to tell him._

She flicked her wand, quickly discarding the tests, and moved in front of the mirror, shrinking away from the judgement she caught in her own reflection. She took a few deep breathes before charming away the evidence of her tears and hastily straightening her clothing.

"Be right there!" she called as she turned on the faucet in the sink.

She splashed water on her face and slowed her breathing before unlocking the bathroom door and walking into the kitchen where Draco, who was still dressed in his Quidditch robes, was unloading a bag of groceries.

"I thought you'd be gone all morning," she said, hugging him from behind.

"I know you haven't been feeling well the last couple of days," Draco began, turning around in her arms so that he could place a kiss on her forehead. "I slipped out of practice early to come home and make you some pancakes."

 _I have to tell him_ , she thought as he rubbed her back. _Just tell him._

But she didn't.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked, moving a hand to brush the hair out of her face, his fingers lingering along the side of her face.

"A little," Hermione lied, forcing herself to smile. Truthfully, she was feeling anything but. "I still feel a little queasy though," she added knowing that she wouldn't be able to hide it if she threw up again.

What had started as a strange sensation in the back of her head, a stress induced tension headache or something like it, had quickly spread to the rest of her body, making it difficult for her to do anything other than lie in bed. It was only when the nausea hit her that she was finally able to piece together what was happening, and by then, it was far too late to pretend it was anything other than what it really was.

"Well, then I'm going to have to insist that you spend the rest of the day in that bed," Draco declared, scooping her into his arms bridal style and carrying her to the bedroom where he placed her softly on the bed.

 _I really need to tell him_ , she thought again.

But still, she didn't. She couldn't. She was too paralyzed with fear.

She crawled under the covers as Draco set to work in the kitchen, her mind chaotic with worry and indecision. For the sake of her momentary cover, she hoped she would be able to eat the food he was cooking, but she could already feel the nausea creeping its way back into her body and wasn't sure she'd be able to hold it together. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to think of anything that would distract her from the acid churning uncomfortably in her stomach. And as the nausea once again washed over her, she cocooned herself in the blankets, wishing she could pretend that she didn't know what she knew, that all of those tests he had taken had just been a dream. She tried to logic her way out of her predicament, tried to find the courage to get out of bed and tell him right then and there, but her eyes succumbed to the exhaustion weighing her body down, and she quickly drifted into an uneasy sleep.

The next thing she remembered was waking up as Draco crawled into the bed next to her, his hair still wet from a relatively recent shower.

"Are you hungry?" he whispered sweetly in her ear.

Her eyes blinked open, confused.

"Oh no," she said, suddenly realizing it was much later in the day than it had been when he'd first deposited her in the bed. "I fell asleep before you could feed me."

"Don't worry about it," he assured her, pausing to wrap his arms around her before placing a soft kiss on her lips. "You needed the rest," he added, his quicksilver eyes studying her with obvious concern.

She buried her head against him, trying to hide from his powerful gaze, and inhaled the clean scent of his body.

_You have to tell him._

But before she could open her mouth to do it, her stomach grumbled, rudely reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything all day.

"If you're still willing," she began, turning to look at him again. "I'll take those pancakes now."

"Chef Malfoy, at your service," Draco replied, placing another kiss on her lips before slipping out of bed and hurrying away to the kitchen.

As Draco began to pile ingredients on the counter, Hermione reluctantly pulled herself out of the warm bed and made her way to the bathroom where she was immediately overcome with panic. She knew she needed to tell him, but the thought of doing it now... she just couldn't do it. _Just one more day_ , she promised herself. _I'll tell him tomorrow._ She paused to look at herself in the mirror, her brown eyes still judging her from her reflection, before shaking her head and heading back out into the kitchen.

But it wasn't just one more day. One day turned into two, which quickly turned into two weeks, and still, she found herself incapable of telling him the news. Every time she thought she had mustered the courage to talk to him, she would envision him leaving her, angry that she had been so irresponsible, that she had forced him to become a father when he didn't want the role, and it would keep her from telling him her secret.

She knew she was being irrational; she knew he was not that kind of man, but still, she was so terrified of losing him that she, Hermione Granger, began ignoring all logic.

As the days passed, her morning sickness became more violent, and she found herself struggling to not only hide what was really going on but also to keep up with the rigors of her assignments at work. Both Draco and Harry assumed her odd behavior was due to stress (oh, the cluelessness of a couple of grown-up boys), and they insisted that she take a few days off from work, but she refused until they threatened to drag her to St. Mungo's.

On her first day off from work, after a rather troublesome panic attack on the kitchen floor, she decided that it was long past time to make sure the baby was okay and phoned a Muggle doctor's office near where she had grown up to schedule an appointment. It didn't make any sense, the fact that she couldn't tell Draco what was going on, and she hoped finally seeing a doctor, even if she was doing it behind his back, would give her the final push she needed to be honest with him.

Her anxiety skyrocketed in the days leading up to the appointment, and immediately after Draco left for work each day, she would collapse into a nervous breakdown, both angry and confused at her inability to tell the father of her child – the man she undoubtedly loved – that she was pregnant with their child. She would cry until she had nothing left to cry, until her body went numb, and then fall asleep wherever she happened to curl up into the fetal position. It was a maddening cycle, and she knew it needed to stop. For the sake of the baby, for the sake of her relationship with Draco, she needed to find her damn Gryffindor courage and tell him everything.

On the day of her appointment, she waited nervously for Draco to leave for work, kissing him goodbye, before Apparating to the doctor's office. She was unsure of what to expect as she walked inside but let out a sigh of relief when she finally pushed the last door open into the small office. The hard part was done; she was finally here.

After checking in at the counter, she moved to a seat in the corner, filling out the intake forms while trying to push aside the fresh nerves that were quickly threatening to overturn her brief moment of calm. What if she had waited too long? What if, in her weeks of shock, something had happened to the baby? She felt her heartbeat quicken, and in an attempt to keep herself from overheating, she tore off the scarf she had wrapped around her neck and hastily tied her hair up into a bun.

 _Hold it together, Hermione_ , she told herself.

And she did… for a few seconds.

Thankfully, before the all too familiar pull of an impending panic attack took over her body, a kind, middle-aged nurse named Martha called her name and escorted her back to an examination room. The nurse, obviously practiced in interacting with overly anxious first-time mothers, took one look at Hermione and reassured her that she was safe.

"Just a little nervous," Hermione tried to explain.

"Darling, a word doesn't exist to explain the emotions you are likely going through right now," Martha told her, smiling sweetly. "If men had to go through all of this," she continued, gesturing to the posters the room (some containing images that Hermione would prefer to forget), "the world would be a much different place."

Hermione, who hadn't expected to find anything about her situation remotely funny, laughed. Just picturing Harry, or any father for that matter, having to deal with a single one of the adverse effects of pregnancy was almost more than she could handle. "Thank you," she managed after a few moments, "I needed that."

Content that her patient was finally somewhat calm, Martha began administering a seemingly endless number of tests, pausing to crack jokes each time that Hermione's smile faded away. It was only when a young, brown-haired woman entered the room, pausing to move a rogue few strands of hair behind her ears before quickly washing her hands, that Hermione realized just how much time must have passed.

"Sorry for the delay," the woman announced, tossing a paper towel in the trash. "I'm Dr. Wilkes," she said, extending her hand to Hermione. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous, but better now that I'm here," Hermione admitted, smiling weakly as the doctor sat down in the chair next to the examination table.

"Totally normal," Dr. Wilkes responded with a smile, her bright blue eyes sparking under the overly harsh overhead lights. "Thank you, Martha," she added, turning toward the nurse who had just finished collecting a vial of Hermione's blood.

Martha nodded at the doctor and turned back toward Hermione. "She's the best," she whispered as Dr. Wilkes began to look over Hermione's chart. "It'll be just fine, darling," she promised, squeezing Hermione's hand before collecting her things and leaving the room.

"It looks like the only thing we have left is the ultrasound," the doctor said, looking up from the papers in her hand. "And then I'd be happy to answer any of your questions."

Hermione nodded and watched as the doctor wheeled a cart to the side of the best.

"I'll need you to lay back onto the pillow and lift your shirt a bit," Dr. Wilkes instructed as she opened the container of gel next to the machine.

Hermione complied quickly, her hands shaking slightly as she moved her shirt up to rest near the band of her bra. When she was comfortable, the doctor covered her exposed skin in a thin layer of gel.

"This might be a little cold," Dr. Wilkes warned her before moving the transducer to Hermione's stomach.

Hermione watched as the doctor moved the tool around his stomach, and while she could only just see the edge of the screen the woman was studying, her heart began to flutter nervously at the thought that her baby was somewhere in the ultrasound image.

"It looks like you're probably 9 weeks along," Dr. Wilkes explained after a few minutes.

The doctor froze the image on the monitor next to the examination table and turned it so Hermione could see her baby for the first time. Despite barely recognizing what she was looking at, she choked back tears as the doctor smiled at her from her position next to the machine. It was strange, seeing an image of the child she knew was growing inside of her, but the picture made her heart ache in ways she had never experienced before. This baby was a part of her, a part of the man she cared so deeply about, and she already loved it more than she could have ever imagined.

"The baby is doing well," the doctor assured her. "I don't see anything at all to be concerned about. The rest of your tests will come back in a few days, and I will call if there's anything to be concerned about."

Hermione, who had stopped listening after 'the baby is doing well' part, nodded quickly when she realized that Dr. Wilkes had stopped talking.

_I have to tell him._

"I'd like to see you again in 3-4 weeks for another checkup," the doctor said after giving Hermione a few more moments to collect herself. "I don't mean to pry, but if you're doing this alone there are resources to help you," she added quietly.

"Oh no, the father is ecstatic!" Hermione lied, forcing a smile on her face. "He just couldn't get off of work today."

Dr. Wilkes eyed her suspiciously but thankfully didn't push the matter.

"Have you been experiencing any morning sickness?" she asked, flipping to another page on Hermione's chart.

"I've been pretty nauseous the past couple of weeks," Hermione admitted, cringing slightly as the memories of the past couple of days flooded her mind, "and I haven't been able to keep much food down."

Dr. Wilkes nodded. "That's very normal," she told her. "Eating small meals throughout the day might be easier on your stomach," she offered, her voice soothing Hermione's last remaining nerves. "But the nausea should pass in the next couple of weeks."

While the doctor talked through plenty of things Hermione could try to help calm her morning sickness, it was clear from the lack of any concrete, one size fits all solutions that she would probably benefit more from speaking to a Healer at St. Mungo's. Muggle medicine, it appeared, just wasn't going to cut it.

"There is something else that's been bothering me," Hermione suddenly remembered. "I've been getting these headaches, some fairly intense."

"How intense?" Dr. Wilkes asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"I used to get migraines as a child," Hermione began, struggling to find a way to explain the sensations she had been feeling over the past couple of weeks, "but these feel different. I wouldn't quite describe them as painful, but they can be quite debilitating. It's almost feels like a small electrical charge is radiating outward from the back of my skull."

"Hmm," the doctor mumbled. "Do the headaches occur at the same time as the nausea?"

"Almost always," Hermione replied.

"And they're not painful?" Dr. Wilkes prompted curiously.

Hermione shook her head. "Mostly just uncomfortable," she replied, "like they're interfering with my equilibrium or something."

The doctor smiled reassuringly. "I know it may not feel like it," she began, tucking her clipboard under her arm, "but all these aches and pains are unfortunately just part of the process. A lot of women experience headaches during their pregnancy. Your body is doing a lot work growing another human being, and sometimes, it's not always easy," she continued, looking at Hermione sympathetically. "If the headaches start getting worse, ring the office, and we'll get you in a for an earlier appointment."

"Thank you," Hermione said, breathing a sigh of relief.

After asking the doctor a few more questions, mostly to make she understood what to expect in the coming weeks, Hermione exited the office and Apparated home, her mind once again fretting with her decision to keep Draco in the dark. The appointment had been much longer than she anticipated, and when she opened the door to her flat, she was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. She closed the door behind her and leaned her body against it, allowing her eyes to close while her hand clutched the image of the sonogram the doctor had printed for her before she left in her pocket.

"Where have you been?"

Startled, she opened her eyes and saw Draco standing with his arms crossed in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes narrowed.

"I– you scared me," Hermione replied, unable to hide the shock she felt at finding him in her flat in the middle of the work day. She released her grip on the sonogram and quickly pulled her hand out her pocket. "I went out for a walk. I can't stand being cooped up in here all day," she added, hoping that he'd accept the excuse for her absence.

He studied her, clearly bothered by her response, but remained quiet.

_Tell him!_

"I thought you might want some lunch," he said finally, his features still stiff as he pointed to a bag on the counter.

"Oh, thank you," she said moving toward him. "You didn't have to do that."

When she was in front of him, she leaned in to wrap her arms around his waist, but he stopped her, his eyes staring into the space behind her.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Draco asked, his voice laden with desperation.

"N-nothing," she lied.

_Tell him._

The hurt in his eyes was obvious. "I wish you would trust me enough to tell me what's going on. I know something is bothering you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Nothing is wrong," she lied again. "I know I haven't been myself the past couple of weeks, but I think you and Harry were right. I think I was letting myself get too stressed at work," she paused, her heart beating furiously as he refused to meet her eyes. "I'm already feeling better after a few days of rest."

Draco sighed, finally looking down at her with his stormy eyes.

"Draco," she begged, her eyes stinging as she tried to fight back the tears threatening to escape.

_Don't leave me. Please don't leave me._

It was torture waiting for him to speak, and she almost told him, the words poised at the end of her tongue, but he grabbed her and pulled her into him before she found the courage to set them free.

"I'm worried about you," he said as he rested his forehead against hers, his heart beating furiously below his chest.

Worried didn't even begin to explain how Draco felt. For the first time in their relationship, he felt like she was pulling away, and it drove him crazy that he couldn't figure out why. He knew something was bothering her, and he didn't understand why she was lying to him. What had he done wrong? Why wouldn't she talk to him about it?

"Being with you makes me feel better," she said as she snuggled against his body. "Thank you for coming to check on me."

"I can take the rest of the day off and stay here with you," he said, hoping that if he stayed she would eventually tell him what was wrong.

Hermione tilted her head to look at him, her warm brown eyes locked on the cool gray of his own. "Don't they need you at work?"

"Dean can finish going through the memory notes," he said simply. "There weren't that many left."

"Then yes, I'd like it very much if you stayed," Hermione told him before inching up on her toes to kiss him, her body still molded tightly against his.

Incapable of staying angry when her body was pressed against his like it was, Draco smiled softly against her lips. His worry was still there, of course, but her touch, her kiss, assured him that she didn't want things to end. Whatever was bothering her, whatever was eating her away behind her fortress of a mind had to be fixable, and he wasn't going to let her keep pushing him away.

"Give me thirty minutes to run back to the Ministry and talk with Dean. Then I'm all yours," he said after they pulled apart. "And eat," he added, gesturing again to the bag on the counter. "You can't get better if you don't have food in your stomach."

"Okay," Hermione said as he released her.

She watched him leave, her hands involuntarily landing on her stomach as the door shut behind him, and decided she was going to tell him as soon as he got back. Her secret was eating her up inside, and she couldn't keep it in anymore. Whether he was ready or not, he deserved to know that he was going to be a father.

* * *

Draco landed in a dimly lit hallway, his eyes falling on a familiar green door. There was no reason for him to go back to the Ministry, Harry had already told him to spend the rest of the day with Hermione and Dean had assured him that he had things covered, but there was something he needed to grab from his place before he returned to her flat, something he wanted to give her when he finally told her that her that he loved her, and he hadn't wanted to give anything away.

His thoughts distracted him as he opened his front door and entered his flat, and he barely glanced at his surroundings as he walked down the small hallway to his bedroom. He paused in front of the small table next to his bed before opening the lone drawer and pulling out a small velvet bag. His heart was beating furiously now, and when he finally tipped the bag over, a beautiful diamond necklace adorned with a large emerald pendant fell heavily into his hand. It had belonged to his grandmother, bequeathed to him when she passed away, and he had held onto it all these years with the hope that he'd one day find someone he wanted to give it to.

Hermione was without a doubt that person. He didn't care that they hadn't been together very long or that his grandmother would turn over in her grave if she knew he was giving one of her most prized possessions to a Muggle-born witch. He loved her, and he couldn't wait any longer to tell her. He stared at the necklace for a few seconds longer, his heart still beating furiously at the realization of what he was about to do, before putting it back in the bag and slipping it in his pocket.

It was only then, when he walked out of his room, that he sensed something was wrong, that he had been too distracted when he first walked in to notice that he wasn't alone. He tried to pull his wand out without turning his head, without giving away that he _knew_ , but a curse hit him before he had a chance to react, throwing his body against the wall while his neck snapped back awkwardly at the impact. His head exploded in pain as he crumbled to the ground, and he cast his eyes wildly around the room hoping to identify the source of the curse. He tried to steady himself, the room spinning around him, as he fumbled around on the floor for his wand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice taunted.

Before he could react, a wand was at his throat, the end of it poking uncomfortably at his pulse point.

"What do you want?" Draco asked as blood began dripping down his face, obscuring the view of the man above him.

"You," the voice responded coolly.

The last thing he saw before he was knocked unconscious, was the sparkle of the necklace on the floor next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thank you's for all of the reviews and follows. As promised, things are going to be intense for the next few chapters, so buckle up!
> 
> Also, that warning about torture and blood and gore that I posted on the very first chapter – probably best to heed that now.


	16. Absent Without Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Do You Remember by Jarryd James, 1995 by Emmit Fenn, and Hallucinations by dvsn

Hermione waited nervously, her hands shaking as she rehearsed what she was going to say to Draco when he got back from the Ministry.

_Draco, I'm pregnant. You're going to be a father._

Over and over again she repeated the words, desperately hoping that if she said them enough while she was alone, it wouldn't be so terrifying to say them to him when he walked back through her front door.

_I'm pregnant._

_I'm. Pregnant._

_You're going to be a father._

Each time that she said them, it got a little easier, a little less daunting to say, and for what felt like the first time in weeks, she relaxed. She had been drowning in her anxiety for so long that she had almost forgotten what was really important, and a sense of calm came over her as she sat on the couch waiting for him to return.

_Fuck, I love him._

And suddenly, the thought of telling him, of actually saying it out loud didn't scare her anymore. She wanted to say those words – those damn three words – even if it meant risking his rejection. It seemed that honesty had finally won, and so she waited, finally ready to tell him everything.

Hermione wasn't worried when after thirty minutes, Draco still hadn't returned. There was obviously a simple explanation for his tardiness. He probably just got caught up discussing things with Dean. Or maybe, Harry had cornered him to talk about Quidditch. Yes, that had to be it.

When he still hadn't returned after an hour, she tried to tell herself that things at work must have taken him longer to finish than he anticipated. That perhaps he had found something important in one of the young boy's memories. He was definitely going to walk through her door any minute, apologizing profusely for taking so long. Why else would he have forgotten to send her an owl?

But as even more time passed, she found it more difficult to ignore the feeling deep inside of her that something was wrong. It wasn't like him to not keep to his word, even if something had come up, and she couldn't think of any good reason that he wouldn't be able to contact her.

Soon, worry and fear had crept their way into every corner of her mind. She chewed anxiously on her lower lip as her gut feeling that something wasn't quite right overwhelmed the part of her brain still trying to rationalize his delay. It just didn't make sense; he had told her that he would be right back.

Hermione waited, her eyes glued on the backside of her door, for two more hours before she decided that she couldn't wait anymore, and she hastily Apparated to the Ministry ready to explode.

She found Dean first, who was utterly confused as to why Draco wasn't already with her, and she flew out of his office before he had a chance to ask her what was going on. After nearly sprinting down the hall, she found Harry, who insisted he hadn't heard from him since he left earlier that morning. And that's when she began to panic.

He was supposed to be here.

_Why wasn't he here? Where would he have gone?_

The dread followed quickly.

_Did he find out about the baby and run away?_

"He said he had to come back to the Ministry," she tried to explain, pacing back and forth in front of Harry's desk. "He left my flat and came here!"

"Hermione, what are you talking about?" Harry said, putting his work down and walking over to her. "I sent Draco home this morning so he could spend the day with you."

She felt like she was going to throw up. "Harry, he left my flat over three hours ago!" she told him, breathing heavily. "He told me he was coming here. He said he'd be right back. I haven't heard from him."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

_Fuck._

That definitely didn't sound like Draco.

"Something happened to him," Hermione insisted, her eyes wide and chaotic. "He wouldn't have just left without telling me. He wouldn't do that– I know he couldn't– he wouldn't…" She paused, trying to catch her breath, "Harry, why would he do that?"

She was frantic, her heart beating so fast she thought it might jump out of her chest, and she knew it wouldn't be long before she started to hyperventilate.

"Did you check his flat before you came here?" Harry asked, his Auror training kicking in despite his own confusion and concern.

"No, he told me he was coming here so I didn't– I should have checked there," she replied, looking desperately at Harry.

"Maybe he got distracted," he offered, grasping for anything that might calm her down. But even as he said the words, he didn't believe them. There was no way Draco would have left Hermione alone for this long if he meant to go right back. It especially didn't make sense after the conversation they had earlier that day.

" _I'm worried about her_." _Draco said as he slumped in the chair across from Harry. "She's hiding something from me."_

" _She definitely hasn't been herself the last couple of weeks," Harry agreed, breathing deeply. "I'm worried about her too."_

" _I shouldn't have let her talk me out of taking her to see a healer," Draco said quietly._

" _You couldn't force her to go," Harry replied, his fingers drumming on the desk in front of him. "She would have been furious if you hadn't dropped it when you did."_

" _Maybe," Draco replied. "But I shouldn't have given up so easily."_

" _You didn't give up," Harry told him, leaning back slightly in his chair. "You got her to take some time off work. No one has ever accomplished that before."_

" _I just don't know what to do," Draco admitted, his eyes filled with anguish as he spoke. "She's distant. She won't talk to me." He paused, brushing his fingers through his hair. "Sometimes I catch her just staring off into space – like she's so caught up in her own thoughts that reality is too much for her to handle."_

_Harry sighed. "Hermione is the most logical person I know, but sometimes I think her stubborn side keeps her from reaching out when she needs help," he tried to explain. "She thinks she can solve everything on her own," he continued, pausing to readjust his glasses. "Look at what happened with Ron. She hid his behavior from everyone. She didn't even tell me what was happening until it was over."_

" _You think it's that bad?" Draco asked nervously, his voice so quiet that Harry could barely hear the words as they left his mouth._

" _I think that if she is hiding something, she's doing it because she thinks she can fix it on her own," Harry responded quickly, realizing that mentioning Ron probably hadn't been the smartest thing to do. "It's her way of protecting the people that she loves."_

_Something flashed across Draco's eyes as Harry finished his sentence._

" _And in case you haven't notice," Harry began, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk, "she definitely fucking loves you."_

_Draco's inhaled sharply. "You really think she loves me?" he asked, locking eyes with Harry._

" _Yes, I do," Harry affirmed. He didn't doubt it for a second. And honestly, he was sick of both Draco and Hermione pretending any differently._

" _I love her, Harry. I can't lose her," Draco confessed suddenly, throwing his head into his hands. "I can't fuck this up."_

" _Go home and talk to her," Harry said softly. "Dean can finish going through the last few memories on his own."_

" _Harry, I can't just leave in the middle of all this," Draco protested, lifting his head out of his hands. "We're already short-handed as it is."_

" _Go," Harry commanded, waving his friend off with a smile. "Go tell her that you love her."_

No, it definitely didn't make sense that Draco would leave after that.

Hermione seemed to sense Harry's own concern and had to reach out a hand to steady herself against his desk as she began to hyperventilate. Closing her eyes, she tried to take in a deep breath, but when the image of the smile Draco had given her before he'd left her flat flashed behind her eyes, she nearly crumpled to the ground.

And she would have, if Harry hadn't anticipated her response and rushed to her side. Wrapping an arm around her, he guided her to his chair and set her down softly.

"Breathe, Hermione," he said sweetly, kneeling down in front of her. "Just breathe."

Harry inhaled deeply, gesturing for her to follow his lead before exhaling slowly. He repeated the motion, moving a hand up and down with his breath as he stared at her worriedly.

"Breathe," he said again.

Nodding in understanding, Hermione began to mimic the motions of his chest, and slowly began to regain control of her breathing.

"I need to find Draco," she managed after a few minutes.

"I know, and we'll find him," Harry said, pushing himself off the floor. "Dean and I will go check his flat."

"I'm coming with you," Hermione told him, her hands gripping the edge of his seat so tightly that her nails began to the rip the fabric.

"Hermione, I don't think that's a good idea," he responded quickly, looking down at her dejectedly.

"Why?" she nearly shouted. "Because you're afraid that you're going to find his body?"

"No that's not–"

"I'm coming with you," Hermione repeated, her voice shaking as she glared at her oldest friend. "You can't make me stay here while you and Dean go looking for him."

 _I could_ , Harry thought, inhaling deeply as he closed his eyes for a moment.

 _But I won't_ , he conceded when he opened them again and saw tears streaming down her face.

Without a word, he grabbed a piece of parchment and quickly scribbled a note for Dean. He watched as the paper flew out of his office and down the hall before turning his attention back to Hermione.

"Alright," he acquiesced. "Tell me exactly what happened?"

Relieved that he hadn't put up a fight, Hermione quickly walked him through the details of the morning, leaving out the fact that she had been at the doctor's office, instead telling Harry the same lie she'd told Draco, that she'd just stepped out for some fresh air and found him at home when she returned. As she told him how Draco said he needed to come back to the office to speak with Dean, Harry had to fight to hide the surprise on his face.

 _Why would he lie about coming back to the Ministry?_ he thought.

Moments later, Dean came jogging into Harry's office, his dark brown eyes narrowing when he noticed the distress painted across Hermione's face.

"What–?"

"Draco's missing," Harry interrupted, his eyes lingering on Hermione as she began chewing nervously at her lip again. "Before I alert Kingsley, I want to be sure we've checked all the places that he could possibly be. I know you're trying to wrap up the work with the boy's memories, but I'm afraid this is more pressing."

Dean's eyes traveled worriedly over to Hermione. "Of course," he said, looking back at Harry. "What do you need me to do?"

Hermione sat quietly as Harry summarized what they knew, trying her best to hold back the tears that were once again threatening to escape down her cheeks.

"Hermione will Apparate with us to Draco's building, but she will wait in the hallway while we make sure it's safe for anyone else to enter," Harry finished, his eyes locking with Hermione's as he placed particular emphasis on the second half of his statement. A part of him was terrified at what they might find, and there was no way he was going to let her walk into the flat before he knew what was behind the front door. He certainly wasn't going to let her walk into a potentially dangerous situation. Draco would never forgive him (and he would never forgive himself) if he put her in harm's way.

The trio left Harry's office quickly, none of them acknowledging a single one of the many hello's they received as they rushed down the crowded Ministry hallway. Hermione trailed behind the men slightly as they walked, trying to shield her face from view. She could hear Harry and Dean muttering to each other under their breaths but was so lost in her own thoughts that their words barely registered with her. All she could think about was the look on Harry's face when she had explained that Draco told her he was coming back to the Ministry. Either Harry knew something that she didn't, or he had riddled out where Draco had really gone and didn't like it. Neither scenario helped calm her nerves, but she was too distraught to push the matter. Even as they reached the Ministry's Apparition point, she was still trying to hold back her tears, her thoughts focused on a single pair of perfectly silver eyes.

She just needed to find the man that she loved.

When they finally arrived in the hallway outside of Draco's flat, Harry turned to face Hermione. "Wait here," he instructed sternly. "Do not open this door until one of us gives you the okay. Do you understand?"

Despite wanting to refuse, she nodded quickly, her stomach twisting with nerves.

Dean placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes studying her with concern. "If something seems off," he whispered, his eyes flickering over to Harry, "if it seems like we're taking too long, you need to Apparate to Harry's and alert Kingsley."

Once again, Hermione wanted to protest, but the seriousness in Dean's voice made her tremble, and so, like she did in response to Harry's instructions, she simply nodded in understanding.

Satisfied that she had heard them – even though he knew she may not listen to them when the time came – Harry lifted his wand and silently unlocked the front door. He motioned for Dean to follow him and they entered the flat with their wands drawn, hoping that they wouldn't need to use them and praying that they weren't about to walk into something worse. It was quiet, and Dean cast a quick spell to confirm they were alone before closing the door behind him. When they were sure that no one else was present, the two men nodded at each other and moved to separate ends of the flat, Dean toward the kitchen and living room and Harry toward the bedroom.

As Harry walked down the hallway, it appeared as if there was nothing out of the ordinary, but when he moved into the bedroom, he dropped his wand wistfully. The drawers in the wardrobe had been pulled out and emptied, and the closet similarly had been cleared of all belongings.

Draco, it seemed, had packed in a hurry.

He stood there in total disbelief, unable to rationalize why Draco would leave like this, when he began to notice just how strange the room actually looked. The drawers and closet were empty, true, but they were the only things out of place in an otherwise extremely tidy room. Not even the bed appeared to be disturbed. Wouldn't he have thrown things on the bed to pack? Wouldn't other things be out of place? In fact, everything seemed a little too spotless, as if someone had scrubbed the room clean before removing Draco's belongings.

"Harry, you're going to want to see this," Dean called from somewhere outside the bedroom.

Harry shook his head as he backed out of the room. _Something definitely doesn't seem right about this,_ he thought.

He found Dean in the kitchen where he was busy inspecting a piece of parchment attached to the top of a small velvet bag. Dean untied the note and handed it to Harry with a sigh.

"Fuck," Harry said after reading it. "Can you tell if this is his handwriting?"

"I'm not positive, but it definitely looks like it," Dean replied before clenching his jaw tightly.

"Fucking hell," Harry mumbled, his free hand nervously traveling through hair. "I'm going to have to show her this," he added, placing the note and bag back on the table and dropping his head. "Fuck," he said again.

This was not what he expected to find.

"What's in the bag?" he asked after a moment, lifting his head slowly to look at Dean.

"I think it's a piece of jewelry, but I didn't pull it out," Dean responded, the shocked look on his face betraying his own feelings of confusion. "I haven't checked to make sure it's safe to handle yet."

Harry placed his hands on the side of his face and slowly drew them down to his neck. "Let's leave it in the bag until we can get a curse breaker to take a look at it," he decided despite the itch he felt to tear the bag open and look inside. "Right now, I'm more concerned about the note."

"Do you really think he'd leave without telling anyone?" Dean asked, his arms crossed across his chest.

Harry sighed. "No, but all of his things are gone from the bedroom. And if that's really his handwriting…" he paused, unable to finish his thought. He felt guilty even thinking that Draco was capable of taking off without telling anyone. Despite the ease at which he had disappeared after the war, Harry couldn't believe he would pull a stunt like that again, especially not now that he was with Hermione, especially not after their conversation earlier in the day.

"He could have been coerced," Dean offered quickly. "His position at the Ministry isn't a secret, and his father's testimony certainly put a lot of Death Eaters in Azkaban. He could have been a target."

"Rodolphus," Harry whispered, suddenly irritated with himself for not seeing it before.

Dean's eyes widened. "You think this could be him?"

"I don't know, but something seems off to me in the bedroom," Harry replied, the color suddenly drained from his face. "How quickly can you get me a copy of his handwriting?"

"I have some of his notes in my office. I could be back in 10 minutes," Dean responded.

"Do it," Harry instructed. "And check my office to make sure Draco hasn't sent anything to me in the meantime."

Dean nodded before quickly Disapparating, the ensuing crack echoing across the empty flat. Harry stood there for a moment, not entirely sure he was prepared for what he was going to have to do next, before picking up the note and turning to face the closed front door.

Hermione was pacing nervously in the hallway when Harry finally opened the door. He didn't have to speak for her to know something was wrong; the tormented look on his face said enough.

"What happened?" she demanded as her eyes traveling to the note in Harry's hand. "Where is he?" she asked, her voice trembling as she spoke.

"We found this," Harry told her sadly, handing her the note that Dean had found.

Hermione's hands shook as she slowly unfolded the piece of parchment in her hands.

_Hermione, I'm sorry. I can't._

Her breath left her as if she had just been kicked in the chest, and she let the parchment fall to the ground as fresh tears began cascading down her cheeks.

"No– this can't– he wouldn't just leave," she whimpered.

"Hermione," Harry said, his voice almost startingly calm as he bent over to pick the note off the ground, "does this look like Draco's handwriting?" he paused, motioning for her to look at the note again. "This is important," he told her, pointing to the words, "I need you to focus."

Startled by his question, she wiped the tears from her eyes and looked back at the note, studying the letters more closely than she had the first time. It was true, the script looked like Draco's, but…

"No," she said finally, looking back at Harry with confusion. "No, it's really similar but– you don't think–?"

"Are you sure?" Harry asked frantically, his heart now beating furiously under his chest.

"Ye– yes, I'm sure. The H is different. Draco doesn't cross his in the same way," she replied as her whole body began to shake in fear. "Harry what is–?"

But Harry was already conjuring his Patronus. "Kingsley, we have a problem. Smaug's been taken."

"Smaug? Are you talking about Draco?" Hermione asked, her voice panicked as she watched Harry's silver stag disappear down the hall.

"Hermione listen to me," he said, grabbing her shoulders and fixing his eyes on hers. "I need you to Apparate to my house and stay with Ginny. The wards will protect you there. Do not, under any circumstance, go back to your flat."

Hermione couldn't speak, she could barely move.

_Oh god, Draco._

"Hermione, did you hear me?" Harry asked when she didn't respond, shaking her slightly to get her attention.

The urgency in Harry's voice snapped her out of her trance, and she nodded slowly, her whole body numb.

"I will be there as soon as I can," he promised. "Go!"

* * *

The next few hours were a blur. Ginny sat with Hermione, their hands intertwined tightly, as they waited desperately for any news. Molly and Arthur arrived shortly after Hermione, and acting on orders from Harry, took James and Albus by Floo back to the Burrow so that Ginny could focus keeping Hermione calm (and, as Arthur had whispered in Ginny's ear before leaving, to keep Hermione from sneaking out and doing anything rash). Without the boys, the house was eerily quiet, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to speak. She could barely bring herself to think about anything other than Draco.

_I didn't tell him. What if I never get to tell him?_

A couple of hours after Harry sent her away, Dean appeared at the front door and spoke quietly with Ginny. Hermione, who had been sitting on the couch staring out into the backyard, strained to hear their conversation, but caught only bits and pieces.

"–not his handwriting–"

"–left a necklace – checking for curses–"

"–traces of dark magic–"

"–don't let her leave–"

Dean left quickly, and Ginny returned to hold her friend's hand. She summarized their conversation and promised her that the Aurors were doing everything they could to find Draco. She told her that Kingsley had brought in all the remaining members of the Order and had cancelled all of his other Ministry duties to help. Tears tumbled down Hermione's face as Ginny spoke. Things were really bad if that many people had been called in.

 _Oh god, I may never get to tell him,_ she thought before breaking down again, barely aware of Ginny's arms around her as she cried.

At some point, Ginny moved Hermione to the kitchen table, insisting that she eat something.

"I'm not hungry," Hermione mumbled, her eyes bloodshot and raw from the hours of tears.

"At least let me make you some tea," Ginny replied, fighting back her own despair as she tried to comfort her friend.

Hermione relented, she didn't have the energy to argue, and when Ginny placed a cup of warm tea in front of her, she pretended to enjoy it. Shortly after, she excused herself to the bathroom, where she crumpled to the ground in pain. It felt like someone had kicked her in the chest and ripped her heart out piece by piece, the ache extending all the way to her fingertips. She allowed herself to succumb to her panic for a few minutes, casting a silencing charm so Ginny wouldn't hear her anguished cries, before pulling herself over to the sink and splashing cold water on her face.

Once, she had thought letting Harry leave to face Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest would be the most heartbreaking moment of her life. But now she knew better. Now, nothing compared to the agony she felt at losing the man she loved before she could tell him how she felt, before she could tell him that she was pregnant with his child.

How could she have not told him?

A few hours after the sun went down, Harry finally came home, his face a complicated mess of emotions. The day, it seemed, hadn't gone well, and Hermione began to shake with fear as he walked toward the kitchen table. He sat down heavily in the chair next to her, placing his wand on the table in front of him, and inhaled deeply before turning to face her.

"Harry," she managed, her hands shaking and her voice still rough from crying. "Is Draco– is he– what happened to him?"

"Someone went through a lot of trouble to make it look as if Draco disappeared willingly," Harry began quietly. "Kingsley's detection spell revealed that someone used dark magic in Draco's flat, and while we weren't able to determine exactly which curse was used, we think it was successful in catching Draco off guard." He paused, placing a hand on top of Hermione's trembling fingers.

 _I never told him, and now he's gone_ , she thought as her eyes began to sting again with the onset of more tears.

"We also found some blood on the wall next to his bedroom," Harry continued, his voice laden with melancholy. "It was a small amount, easy enough for someone to miss during a hasty clean-up, but we confirmed that it's Draco's. The wall itself appears to have been magically repaired, so we think that's where he was attacked."

Hermione gasped as tears began rolling down her already tear streaked cheeks, and Ginny tightened her hold on her friend's hand, rubbing her thumb slowly over the top of it.

Harry moved to pull something out of his pocket and set a small velvet bag on the table.

"We thought that this might be left as a trap for you, but it's not a portkey and it's not cursed," he told her, his fingers tapping on the top of the bag.

Harry tipped the bag, and Hermione watched as a diamond necklace adorned with a single, large emerald spilled out into his hand, the gems sparkling in the dim kitchen lighting as he moved it closer to her.

"The Malfoy seal is engraved on the back," he explained. "I checked the records at Gringotts, and Draco removed this from his vault last week." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I think he wanted to give it to you before he was taken," he finished, motioning for her to take it from him, which she finally did after a brief moment of hesitation.

The necklace, probably worth more than her childhood home, sat heavily in her hand. It was beautiful and more than she deserved after she'd spent so long hiding her secret from him. Turning it over, she stared at the familiar M etched into gold behind the emerald, no doubt indicating that it was family heirloom that Draco's parents would be unhappy that she had.

"Who did this?" Hermione asked quietly as she ran a finger delicately over the M.

"It's not entirely clear," Harry admitted.

Hermione looked over at him, the hope now drained from her eyes. "But you have a hunch, don't you?"

Harry sighed. "I think," he began, taking a deep breath before he continued, "and Kingsley agrees with me, that it was Rodolphus."

Another gasp escaped Hermione's lips when the name she had been fearing left Harry's mouth, and Ginny, who had remained silent throughout the entire conversation, swore quietly.

"I had things in his flat," Hermione said simply after a few moments. "That's why you sent me here. He knows about me."

Harry nodded. "We know Draco didn't write the note, which means whoever did write it knew that he wouldn't disappear without leaving something for you," he told her, pausing to swallow heavily. "Your relationship with Draco has been all over the news, but I'm worried that this level of detail means someone's been following him for some time now," he continued sadly. "Your flat won't be safe until we figure this out. Dean already set up new wards and we have a team stationed outside of your building, so we'll know if he tries to come for you. But I am not going to risk letting you go back there."

"Harry." She spoke in a whisper, her eyes filled with tears and her voice breaking. "We have to find him. We have to…"

_I still need to tell him._

"I will do everything in my power to find him," Harry promised, his heart breaking as he watched Hermione slump defeated in her chair.

Harry had been through more than most in his twenty-seven years of life but seeing the utter torment in his oldest friend's eye was almost more than he could bear.

 _She doesn't know_ , he thought, taking another deep breath.

"He loves you," he said, lowering his voice slightly. "He told me before he left work this morning."

Hermione inhaled sharply, the words almost stopping her heart. Of course, he loved her. How could she have not seen that? How could she have been so stupid?

Harry wasn't sure he should tell her what Draco had admitted to him earlier in the day, it wasn't really his place, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them, and when he saw the look on her face he knew he had done the right thing. She needed to know how he felt, she needed to know because if they never found him, if Rodolphus decided to torture him like he did the boy, Harry wasn't sure Draco would ever be the same. And Hermione deserved to know how much she meant to him before he was torn away from her.

"I should have told him," Hermione mumbled, her eyes staring past Harry. "Why didn't I tell him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favorite comment on Tuesday's post brought to you by allegedgeek on AO3 "Draco WTF kind of Auror are you?" A very, very distracted one!
> 
> I know I may sound like a broken record, but thank you everyone for sticking with this story. I try to message/comment on everyone's reviews but know that if I miss one, I'm still incredibly appreciative. Next week will be the start of my once a week (Tuesday) postings. If I'm productive enough over the coming weeks, I have no issue surprising you with a Friday posting here and there.
> 
> *Smaug is the dragon in The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien - I use it here as Draco's codename.


	17. Fraxinus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Hope Is a Dangerous Thing for a Woman Like Me to Have - But I Have It by Lana Del Rey, The Scientist by Coldplay, and Umbrella by Ember Island

Hermione couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, visions of Draco lying somewhere in a pool of his own blood would invade her thoughts, and she'd throw them back open in a panic, clutching her heart as if it could ease her pain. She'd lay there, tears silently falling down her face, before her eyelids would fall heavy with exhaustion again and close against her will, eliciting a new round of distressingly grim images. The cycle was torture, and when sometime early in the morning she decided that she'd finally had enough, she kicked the covers off her body, threw on the large jumper Harry had loaned her, and made her way downstairs to the kitchen.

It was still dark, but chirping birds were welcoming a new day, one that Hermione desperately hoped she'd be able to mentally survive. Her body was weak with worry and hunger, and she knew if she didn't find a way to sleep, if she didn't force herself to eat more than a few bites of dry toast, she'd risk hurting the baby – _his baby_. But even as exhausted as she was, she knew she wouldn't be able to just sit around and do nothing.

She had to help find him.

Inhaling deeply, she grabbed a glass from the shelf above her and turned to the sink to fill it with water, her eyes landing on the kettle sitting on top of the stove as she turned her head.

_How will you ever enjoy another cup of tea without me?_

She could still hear his voice in her head, still feel how those words had affected her when he had first said them to her.

 _I won't_ , she thought. _I won't be able to enjoy anything without you._

Instinctively, she moved toward the stove, one hand resting low on her stomach while the other reached out to touch the kettle. She closed her eyes and thought back to the week before they'd been given their assignment, before they'd fallen eagerly into each other's beds, wishing she could go back in time to warn him. Maybe if they hadn't been so distracted with each other they would have noticed that he was being followed, that the man they'd been looking for had been right under their noses the entire time. But when Hermione realized what she was doing, she opened her eyes and shook her head. She couldn't waste the day contemplating what-ifs. He needed her, and she couldn't let her pain distract her. She needed to figure out where he had been taken.

"It's not going to heat itself, you know."

Startled, Hermione turned to find Harry standing on the other side of the kitchen, his mouth bent into a weak smile. There were dark circles under his eyes, and despite his obvious attempt at humor, his eyes mirrored her own worry and pain. Apparently, she hadn't been the only one incapable of sleep. She quickly removed her hand from her stomach and met his eyes, attempting to return his smile.

"How are you?" Harry asked, raising his wand to light the stove.

"Terrible," she confessed, fidgeting with loose thread on the edge of the jumper. "I couldn't sleep. Every time I shut my eyes…"

Harry didn't need her to finish the sentence to know how it would have ended. "I couldn't sleep either," he replied sadly. "I kept expecting Draco to burst through the front door, yelling about the state of his flat."

"I don't know what to do with myself," Hermione said quietly, moving one arm across her body, her hand clinging to the top of her shoulder. "I feel so helpless hiding away here," she continued, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. "I should be out there helping you search for him."

Harry sighed. "I know you want to help Hermione, but I can't risk putting you in harm's way," he replied, his voice cracking as he spoke. "Draco would never forgive me if I let something happen to you."

_He would want me to protect her._

"But I'll never forgive myself if I lose him without doing anything at all," she said quietly, casting her eyes over to her oldest friend. "Please, Harry," she begged, her eyes filling with tears, "at least let me go through the memories again."

It was almost too much for him, seeing Hermione so broken down, but as much as he wished he could ease her suffering, he knew there wasn't anything he could say to make it better.

"I'll have someone bring the notes by later this morning," he relented, knowing full well that if anyone was going to find something useful in them, she would be the one.

"Thank you," Hermione responded, folding her other arm across her chest and staring back out through the window into the backyard.

The sun was starting to rise, bathing the kitchen in a warm, fiery glow that quickly thawed her chilled body, providing her with a brief moment of relief before the pain returned. Hermione normally loved this time of day, when the world was waking up outside her window, but as she watched the sun climb above the horizon, she was only reminded of how cruel the passing of time could be. Each hour that passed was another hour for Rodolphus to use to hurt Draco, another hour that could be his last.

 _I can't think like that, s_ he thought as her body shuddered. _Not now._

"Why do you think Rodolphus came for him?" Hermione prompted suddenly, her voice cracking as she turned away from the window.

Harry was quiet for a moment. "Honestly?" he said finally. "I don't know. Draco has been back for years; it doesn't really make sense to me why Rodolphus would have waited until now to take him."

"Maybe he found someone to help him," she offered, her stomach dropping as the words left her mouth.

She had spent most of the night running through every possible scenario for why Draco was taken, but no matter what she came up with, no matter what the evidence was telling her, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing a key piece of information. There had to be a reason that Rodolphus came when he did, that he felt safe enough to kidnap an Auror from right under the Ministry's nose, and she needed to figure it out before...

"The curse he used on the boy isn't something we've seen before," Hermione continued, her eyes flickering nervously back over to Harry. "What if he discovered something new? Something that our magic can't fight against?"

Again, Harry took a moment to respond, moving a hand to his chin as he considered her words. "Rodolphus is powerful, but do you really think he's capable of that?" he paused, readjusting his glasses. "He's cunning, yes, but he doesn't really strike me as the kind of man who's all that invested in making novel magical discoveries."

He wasn't necessarily wrong, but Hermione wasn't sure he was one-hundred percent right either. Rodolphus was the worst kind of evil, a brute in every sense of the word who preferred to subject his victims to slow and bloody torture rather than offer them a quick death. While intelligence and wit had never really his strong suit, he was extremely resourceful and was willing to do anything to get what he wanted. If, as she feared, he had discovered something new, she believed that someone most likely helped him.

"What about the tree? Did the researchers ever find anything?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head. "They've scoured all of the texts and records in the Ministry library, but there's no mention of anything like it anywhere."

That was definitely worrisome. It was probably their best chance at figuring out where Rodolphus had been hiding.

And more importantly, where Draco had been taken.

"Is there any way you could get me those notes as well?" Hermione inquired. She wasn't sure if she'd find anything new, but she was damn well going to try.

Harry knew no amount of words or promises were going to lessen her distress. The only thing that was going to keep her from completely shutting down, he reluctantly accepted, was letting her contribute to the search to find the man she loved.

"I'll see what I can do," Harry said, reaching out to place a hand on her arm. "I don't want you to overexert yourself," he added, studying her nervously.

A whistle emanated from the kettle, interrupting their conversation, and Harry moved it off the burner before turning to look back at Hermione.

"I'll have someone bring you a draught of dreamless sleep later today," he told her. "You won't be much help if you don't get some rest."

Hermione didn't have any intention of sleeping today, but she didn't argue. "Okay," she said, instead.

Harry was somewhat relieved that she didn't protest, but that didn't stop his own anxiety from clawing its way back into the front of his brain in the short time that it took him to pull two teacups out of the cupboard and prepare their tea.

A team of Aurors had been working through the night, some out actively searching for both Rodolphus and Draco, while others stood guard outside of both Draco's and Hermione's flats. Owls had been delivering letters to him all night, keeping him apprised of their progress (and assuring he never got more than a single hour of uninterrupted rest), but there was nothing good to report. The last letter, which had been sent by Kingsley less than an hour ago, informed Harry that his team had lost Draco's trail somewhere outside of London.

After handing Hermione her cup of tea, Harry leaned back against the counter behind him and took a sip from his own cup, the warm liquid helping to sooth the pounding in his head. He was tempted to stay home and make sure Hermione was safe (and that she stayed put), but he knew that he needed to relieve the Aurors who had stayed on duty through the night.

Fighting back a yawn, he cast his gaze to the world outside his kitchen window. As Head Auror, he was used early mornings and little sleep, but the added emotional toll of the past 24 hours would have been enough to knock over a fully-grown mountain troll. And while the tea in his hand would have normally been enough to jump start his day, he knew it wasn't nearly strong enough for the day he had ahead of him. Despite his reluctance to take them, he knew he'd have to take energy potion when he got to his office. Draco's life – and Hermione's sanity – likely depended on his ability to make it through the day.

"Hermione," Harry said suddenly, tearing his eyes away from the view outside, "promise me you won't leave the house today."

"If you figure out where he is, you cannot expect me to stay here," Hermione replied, her voice eerily firm. "I don't care how worried you are about my safety. I will go to him no matter what you say."

"Hermione–"

"You would do the same for Ginny," she interrupted, her eyes once again filling with tears. "Don't ask me to stay away from the person that I love."

Harry exhaled deeply, dropping his head to his hands. He understood her pain better than anyone. When he walked into the Forbidden Forest during the Battle of Hogwarts, he accepted that his death would be worth it if it saved the people he loved, if it ended the war. He didn't doubt that she would sacrifice her safety if it meant protecting Draco, but he didn't relish the idea of losing her in the process.

He looked up, the anguish in his eyes obvious behind his glasses. "I will send my Patronus if we find him," he assured her.

Silence returned as they continued to sip their tea, neither sure what else they could say to each other.

"I have to get back to the office," Harry said after a few minutes, his empty cup dangling from one of his fingers. "Will you be okay until Ginny wakes up?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "I won't do anything rash if that's what you mean," she replied, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the outside of the cup in her own hand.

Harry walked over to her and placed a hand softly on her shoulder. "We will find him," he promised.

 _I have to find him_ , she thought as she watched her friend walk up the stairs to his bedroom.

* * *

_4 hours earlier_

The wind was howling, whipping harshly against his exposed skin, but Rodolphus ignored the damp chill and continued moving silently through the night, a body trailing behind him as he walked. The Ministry, it appeared, had caught on to him more quickly than he anticipated, and he had spent most of the past few hours attempting to lay a false trail. He wondered what had given him away.

 _The damn note_ , he grumbled to himself as he cast his eyes angrily behind him.

He had knocked Draco out before he could coerce him into writing one, a stupid mistake he could admit with a bit of hindsight, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He had other things to worry about.

The Aescling wouldn't be happy with him for taking Draco, his task for him had been very specific, but there was plenty of time to worry about that later. He couldn't resist such a perfect opportunity to capture his pathetic nephew, even if it meant risking the anger of his powerful, new ally or exposing himself to the Aurors who had been relentlessly hunting him for years. In the end, all would be forgiven when he delivered the real prize.

After the war, he fled the country, choosing to lay low in the Altai Mountains. He remained successfully hidden there for a couple of years until some lowly Ministry worker on vacation caught sight of him late one night as he crept into a nearby village to steal food. Knowing that the place would be flooded with Aurors by the next morning, he disappeared again, this time traveling north to Svalbard, hiding himself once again in uneasy terrain and bitter cold.

It was a ghastly existence, subsiding on a small stock of canned food he managed to procure (read: steal) from time to time and the occasional animal which unknowingly wandered into his pathetic domain. But as the years passed, it became clear that he had been successful at hiding himself, and so he stayed, biding his time until the Ministry gave up looking for him, until he could sneak his way back into Britain and exact his revenge.

So when, one particularly awful winter night, a strange man appeared outside the cave he was hiding in, promising him powers Voldemort had only dreamed of, Rodolphus didn't even wait to hear what would be requested of him in exchange. It was only when the man muttered a single name, the name of someone he knew was practically untouchable, that he began to worry that the task would be impossible.

 _Nothing's impossible_ , the man had told him before flicking his wand and demonstrating just how powerful he could become.

When Rodolphus had stopped shaking from the effects of the curse, he wiped the blood from the side of his mouth and smiled wickedly. It appeared he had just made the best kind of friend, one who would be able to teach him how to win a war that Voldemort never could.

 _Get me back to Britain, and I'll get you what you need_ , he promised resolutely.

Rodolphus paused, kneeling down to inspect a rock near his feet. Yes, he was close. He had thought it might be difficult to locate the entrance to his new hideout in the dark, but it seemed his senses were still as keen as they used to be. He cast his eyes outward, straining to make out the outline of the tree he knew was nearby, but his ears found it first, the distinct rustling of the leaves giving away its position up the hill.

He began moving up the slope, lazily flicking his wand to continue moving Draco's unconscious body. Just a little further, just a few more steps, and he could put this whole ordeal behind him. Once he touched the tree, no one would be able to find him, and once he was finally hidden away, Draco Malfoy would wake the rue the day he decided to become a hero for the wrong side.

And then, he would finally be able to get to _her_.

* * *

Hermione spent most of the day frantically reading through the notes one of the researchers had dropped off earlier in the morning, tossing books and papers haphazardly across the kitchen table as she worked. It was an environment she normally thrived in, treading the mysterious academic waters, but her racing thoughts had her perched precariously on the edge of a metaphorical cliff.

_Draco, where are you?_

Every once in a while, she would stare at the drawing he had made of the black tree from the boy's memories, and despite being impressed with the level of detail put into researching the topic, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were all missing something rather obvious. She would mumble to herself, her fingers tracing over the image as she tried to figure out what was bothering her before prying herself away from picture to bury her head in another book.

The research team had focused most of their efforts on the color of the tree, their notes recording a long list of plants that were capable of turning black under the right conditions either known or rumored to exist somewhere in Britain or elsewhere in Europe. The list was the first thing she had gone through, her eyes scanning the words, stopping here and there to look up a plant name she didn't recognize, but everything the team had compiled was much too small, much too delicate to grow into something as large as a tree. And that was when she owled for the books.

She just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something missing. There had to be.

For what felt like the thousandth time, Hermione glanced back at the drawing.

_This would be so much easier if the damn tree wasn't black._

She was still busy staring at the image, her eyes tracing the intricate details on the page when she suddenly recognized what was so familiar about the tree.

 _Oh my god_.

She stood up quickly, Accio'ing one of the Muggle botany books she had thrown onto the floor earlier in the day.

_What if the tree wasn't magical at all? What if its color was simply the consequence of a magical act?_

She threw open the book, flipping the pages frantically until she came to the section she had been searching for.

"Fraxinus," she breathed, her finger tracing over the words on the page as she read pieces of information out loud. "... flowering plant… mostly deciduous… common across Europe, Asia and North America…"

She gasped as her eyes fell on the pictures at the bottom of the page. _No. How had they all missed this?_ She placed the picture Draco had drawn of the tree next to the book and nearly toppled over onto the ground.

"Oh! My! God!" she shouted, her eyes moving frantically back and forth between the pictures in the book and Draco's drawing.

Ginny, startled by her yell, came racing down the stairs, her long, red hair flying wildly behind her.

"What happened?!" she asked, her wand raised up in the air.

"The tree. It's an ash tree!" Hermione tried to explain, barely pausing to look up from the images. "No one made the connection because in the boy's memory, the tree was black," she paused breathing heavily. "The tree isn't something magical at all – it was altered by magic."

Ginny, who still had no idea what Hermione was rambling about, walked toward her friend and placed a hand on her back. "What are you talking about, Hermione?" she asked calmly, putting her wand back in her pocket.

"Ash trees are extremely common," Hermione said, finally looking at Ginny. "How could I have missed it before?" she asked, falling down heavily into the chair behind her.

Ginny picked up Draco's drawing and studied it, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "If they're so common, then how is knowing it's an ash tree helpful?" she asked, still not understanding why Hermione was so excited.

"British folklore is littered with mentions of ash trees, mostly due to the belief that the trees had protective and healing properties," Hermione replied, her hands digging through the pile of papers in front of her to uncover another book. "But there is one group whose entire mythology centers around a single ash tree."

As she finally uncovered the book – titled _Magical and Mythical Plants of Europe_ – she had been searching for, her trembling fingers pried it open and quickly began turning the pages.

"Hermione, I still don't see–"

"The Norse," she interrupted, pushing the book toward her friend.

"Yggdrasil is the World Tree in Norse mythology. It's an ash tree," she said, her slender finger pointing to a colorful drawing on the page. "It's the center of the cosmos – it literally connects the Nine Worlds together. Odin hung himself on it as a sacrifice – it's how he gained his knowledge," she continued, her heart beating so furiously that she could barely get her words out. "The Vikings were even sometimes referred to as the Aescling which literally translates to men of ash."

"So, the tree is an ash tree. I still don't see how that helps us find Draco," Ginny said, looking up from the page.

"During the height of their power, the Vikings invaded Britain and created strongholds all over the countryside." Hermione barely blinked as she threw another large book – this one titled _A History of British Rule: From Small Beginnings to Global Dominance_ – on the table. "Not much is known about the Norse mages, even less about those who travelled with the Vikings during their campaigns into Britain, but they were rumored to be extremely powerful."

Ginny's eyes widened in understanding. "So, you think you can connect the tree Draco saw in the boy's memory with an actual place."

"If the tree was plottable, the researchers would have found it by now," Hermione explained, opening the book. "I think it's hidden somewhere in Britain, only known to those who have seen it before or to those who know what to look for."

"Then how would we be able to find it?" Ginny asked quietly, realizing just how difficult it would be to find if that were true. "How would we even know where to start?"

"If I'm right–"

"Hermione, when are you ever not right?"

"If I'm right," Hermione repeated, narrowing her eyes slightly as she glanced at her friend, "and the black ash tree can be linked to the Norse, then it has to be located somewhere that was meaningful to them."

Ginny allowed herself a small smile as she watched Hermione bury her face behind the book on the table.

 _Bloody hell,_ she thought. _She's going to figure this out._

"York is definitely a possibility," Hermione pondered, her fingers tapping anxiously on the open page before bending her head forward to scan the text. "The Norse invaded and settled there during the late 9th century," she read out loud. "It wouldn't be any more difficult than it is in London to magically conceal something there," she continued, her eyes still glued to the page. "It was certainly a seat of power for many Viking rulers, but other than that, I just don't see what would make York more culturally important than any of their other outposts, especially considering that they were eventually pushed out."

Before Ginny had a chance to blink, Hermione was turning the pages of the book again, her eyes moving furiously over the section headings in search of anything that would be remotely helpful.

"Perhaps it was Pevensey," she proposed after coming to a stop on a page with a large map. "The Normans, who were the descendants of Vikings that had settled in northern France, invaded England through Pevensey during William the Conqueror's successful campaign to win the English Throne," she summarized, tapping her finger on a location in the south of England. "One could argue that it solidified the power of Vikings and their descendants in Europe." She paused, contemplating what she had just read. "But by then the Normans were no longer Vikings in the traditional sense. Most of them would have been successfully converted to Christianity and living happily under the rule of another by then. So no, Pevensey can't be right," she rationalized. "It has to be a place that meant something to the Norse before they assimilated."

She flipped backwards in the book, looking for something more specific, something a little more ancient in history. Muttering to herself, she nixed a few more locations before she found what she had been looking for.

"The Vikings first invaded Britain at Lindisfarne," Hermione said, her eyes fixed yet again on another map. "It's still fairly secluded, cut off from the mainland during high tide and relatively undeveloped." She paused, rubbing her fingers along the sides of her face. "Yes, it has to be Lindisfarne. That makes the most sense. It's a place they would still be proud of."

"Hermione," Ginny said softly, knowing what Hermione was about to do. "We should owl Harry."

"Yes," she agreed, her eyes meeting Ginny's for the first time since she had begun flipping through the book. "Do you mind sending Rowen while I finish up a few things here?"

Ginny nodded. "I'll be right back." She walked toward the back door, pausing to place a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Be careful," she whispered, before moving the rest of the way outside. "Harry will kill me if you die."

In any other situation, on any other day, Hermione would have smiled, but not today. Today, she was preoccupied with the man she needed to save and the maniacal Death Eater she would kill if he so much as laid a finger on the father of her unborn child.

* * *

"You let her leave!?" Harry yelled as he ran through the front. "How could you let her leave?"

Ginny, who had been sitting at the kitchen table calmly sipping her tea, turned to face her incensed husband.

"Did you even finish the letter before you decided to rush over here?" she asked, biting back a smile.

Harry's face turned bright red. "Ginny, this is not funny. I told you that you needed to keep her from leaving," he said angrily. "What if she–"

Ginny stood up from her chair and closed the distance between them, her eyes glued on his as she threw her hands on her hips. "Don't you dare try to tell me that you didn't promise her she could go if someone found him," she threatened, her hands on her hips.

Harry cringed and opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny continued before he could interrupt.

"She just figured out where he was taken before you," she continued, softening her voice. "She was going whether I gave her permission or not. I thought you would appreciate the heads up."

Harry sighed deeply and buried his hands in his hair.

"Fuck," he managed after a few moments.

"She went to Lindisfarne," Ginny said, wrapping her arms around her husband to comfort him. "I don't know how she plans to locate the tree, but she wouldn't have left if she didn't have an idea where to start."

"She should have waited for backup," Harry replied, pulling her closer. "Rodolphus will try to kill her if he gets the chance."

"She's stronger than you give her credit for," Ginny said softly, placing her hands on either side of his face. "If I were in her place, and you had been taken, I would be doing exactly the same thing."

"But that's–"

"Harry, it's exactly the same and you know it," she asserted. "When you love someone, you'll do anything to protect them," she continued, her eyes still studying him. "Go. Go to Lindisfarne and look for her. She might need you before the night is over."

"Ginny, I– the kids–"

Ginny silenced him with a kiss. "Don't worry about us," she said as she pulled away. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, his thumb rubbing softly across her cheek.

He kissed her one more time before reluctantly stepping out of her arms and walking back toward their front door. It never got any easier leaving her knowing that he was heading into something dangerous and uncertain, but he couldn't let Hermione face whatever she was about to find alone. He walked slowly toward the front door, waving his wand to send his Patronus to Dean, telling him to meet him outside of the Ministry in five minutes. Before he Apparated, he paused to look back at Ginny, who had finally allowed the worry that had been brewing inside of her percolate to the surface.

"I'll bring them both back," he promised before disappearing into the night.

"Hopefully, alive," Ginny whispered to the empty house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am by no means an expert in Norse mythology or history, but as a child of a Midwestern Norwegian (who has a very, very Scandinavian name), I've always been a little obsessed with the Vikings.
> 
> Some relevant history:
> 
> \- The Viking raid on Lindisfarne in AD 793 is often used to mark the start of the Viking Age in Europe. If you're into historical dramas, this raid is portrayed in one of the first few episodes of the show Vikings (although whether or not Ragnar Lothbrok was a real person and whether he was at all responsible for those events is another thing entirely).
> 
> \- York (or Jórvík), and much of the Northumbria region, was under Norse control from the late 9th century until the middle of the 10th century. Ivar the Boneless (one of the real-life Viking warriors thought to be the son of Ragnar Lothbrok), led the Great Heathen Army into England and was the first (or at least one of the first) Viking to capture the city. If I remember correctly, this is also portrayed in Vikings, although it's in one of the later seasons.
> 
> \- Early in the 10th century, Rollo, a Viking warrior and chieftain, became the first ruler of Normandy after agreeing to end his own campaign against the Franks and agreeing to help protect them from future Viking attacks. Some of these events are also portrayed in Vikings, but the timing of those raids and Rollo's relation to Ragnar are a pretty dubious.
> 
> \- Rollo's great-great-great grandson, William the Conqueror, became the first Norman King of England after his successful invasion of England in 1066. So, in a strange sort of irony, even though the Viking Age came to end just as William came to power, a person with Viking blood still made it to the English throne.
> 
> \- During the Viking Age, people on the British Isles referred to the Norse/Vikings as Danes or Northmen but for clarity I've chosen to stick with the former terms since they are more familiar to people today.
> 
> Side note – if you haven't watched The Last Kingdom on Netflix, stop reading this and go start it immediately! I enjoyed Vikings, but TLK is a whole other level of addicting.


	18. Meiða

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW** : This is the one folks. What follows contains blood, gore, and torture. There's also a depiction of a threatened sexual assault. If any of this is a trigger for you, please skip this chapter.
> 
> Songs - Fall In Love (Until the Ribbon Breaks) by Phantogram, Nightshade by The Lumineers, and Dark Paradise by Lana Del Ray

Draco woke suddenly. He was disoriented but knew immediately that he wasn't in his flat anymore. There was a sharp, metallic taste in the back of his mouth and a searing pain in his left thigh, neither of which calmed his churning stomach, and he could feel blood dripping down his face from a deep wound near his hairline. His clothes were sticky and damp with what he could only assume was a combination of his own blood and whatever was dripping down the wall that he was chained against. The weight of his upper body pulled uncomfortably at his wrists which were shackled against the wall above his head, while his knees were bent awkwardly underneath his torso.

In an attempt to release the pressure on his wrists, he tried to shift his weight to his feet, but groaned in pain as his legs gave out underneath him.

 _Fuck,_ he breathed.

Another wave of pain shot down his spine when he tried to turn his head to look around the room, but he could have saved himself the trouble. It was dark enough that even if his hands had been free, he wouldn't have been able to see his fingers wiggling around an inch away from his face. He took a deep breath trying to settle his frantic heartbeat, inhaling the distinct scents of mildew and soil.

_I must be somewhere underground._

As he was straining to remember what had happened to him, trying to recall the face of his attacker, he felt a pair of eyes glaring at him from the darkness.

"Oh good, the blood traitor is finally awake," said a familiar, deep voice.

Draco didn't need a light to know who was in the room with him.

"Hello, Uncle," Draco seethed, struggling slightly against the restraints.

"You made a grave mistake turning your back on us Death Eaters," Rodolphus told him, stepping forward as he flicked his wand to light the room.

The sudden change in light burned Draco's eyes, but finally gave him the opportunity to assess his surroundings. The room he was in was small, the walls made of large stones that were covered in grime, and the floor appeared to be made of nothing more than packed dirt. There was a single door which opened to a staircase opposite his position on the wall.

 _Well_ , Draco thought, _at least I know there's a way out._

Rodolphus was staring down at him with a crooked smile and was, unsurprisingly, dressed in all black. His dark hair was tied back low on his neck and his beard was trimmed into his signature goatee. The robes on his tall, skinny frame were noticeably frayed and damaged, no doubt from his years in hiding, but otherwise he was just as Draco remembered.

"I didn't realize the fan club was still together," Draco replied sarcastically.

"Ahh, still full of jokes I see," Roldophus observed, running his hand over his beard. "That won't last long, I'm afraid."

_So, torture it is then._

"A little ominous, don't you think?" Draco said with a sneer.

Rodolphus closed the distance between them quickly and kicked Draco hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

"I'm going to do a lot worse to you before the night's over. It's best if you just keep your mouth shut," Rodolphus warned, his eyes dark and menacing.

"So, this was your grand plan?" Draco finally managed after catching his breath. "To torture your traitorous nephew? I have to admit, it's not really your brightest idea. Kidnapping an Auror assigned to your case isn't exactly going to fly under the radar."

Rodolphus laughed.

"No one has any idea where you are," he told him, his crooked smile exposing his yellow teeth. "In fact, the way I staged your disappearance, your friends at the Ministry and that filthy little mudblood you care for so much will probably assume you ran away like a scared little boy," he taunted.

Draco let out a growl at the mention of Hermione, but otherwise remained quiet. If Rodolphus knew about her, then he knew how to get to her, and that was more terrifying than anything that could be done to him while he was chained up in the dirty basement of whatever godforsaken place his uncle had managed to gain access to.

_Fuck._

"I gather from your silence that I have your attention," Rodolphus continued, turning to pace the floor in front of Draco's position. "You see, I've been following you for weeks," he explained, now twirling his wand around in his hand. "It's rather easy to blend in when the people looking for you aren't expecting you to be right behind them. You Ministry lot haven't gotten much smarter in the years since I disappeared."

"I get it, you're obsessed with me," Draco said snidely. "But you still haven't answered my question. Why am I here?"

Rodolphus walked back into Draco's view and laughed again.

"It's true, I could have taken your father instead. Or your mother – that would have been fun. But I'll rather enjoy making an example out of you."

"Do you really think anything you do matters? Whatever you're hoping to achieve, you won't win," Draco said, his bottom lip splitting as he spoke.

There was a murderous glint in Rudolphus' eyes, but Draco didn't care what he did to him; he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of begging for his life.

"You're pathetic," Rodolphus continued, continuing to ignore Draco's question. "I'm going to make you regret ever turning against the Dark Lord."

"Your precious leader is dead, Uncle. Or have you not heard?" Draco spat.

"Dead, yes. But his ideas live on."

"He wasn't even a pureblood," Draco retorted, unable to hold his anger back. "I bet you were disgusted when you realized you were following a fraud."

"Ahh… yes, very unfortunate," Rodolphus admitted, tilting his head slightly. "But no matter, I will do what is necessary to ensure magic remains accessible only to the worthy."

"By ridding the world of those who aren't your idea of pure? How original," Draco goaded dangerously.

Rodolphus swiped his wand angrily, casting a silent curse, and Draco felt the skin rip apart on his chest. He quickly clamped his teeth together to hold back a scream as a sharp pain radiated through his entire body.

"I'd choose my words carefully if I were you," Rolodphus sneered, his lips spread into a triumphant smile.

"Or what? You'll kill me?" Draco asked rhetorically as he lifted his head again to glare at his uncle. "Pretty sure that was decided the moment you brought me here."

Rudolphus bent down so that he was staring directly into Draco's eyes.

"I'll rather enjoy torturing the mudblood you've grown so fond of," he smirked, the amusement obvious in his dark eyes. "That is before I hand her over to someone much, much worse."

"Stay away from her!" Draco yelled, tugging wildly against his restraints.

"Ahh tsk, tsk Draco. You know better than to shout at your elders."

"Do whatever you want with me, but leave her alone," Draco pleaded.

He knew it was futile to negotiate in his position, but he couldn't stand the thought of Hermione being tortured by anyone, let alone a Death Eater with a penchant for killing people slowly.

 _Harry will take care of her. She'll be safe with him,_ he tried to tell himself.

"Whatever I want? If you say so..." Rodolphus said before raising his wand and shouting, " _Meiða!"_

The word wasn't one Draco recognized, but when the curse hit his body, it no longer mattered. His insides felt like they were on fire, as if every molecule in his body was being ripped apart one by one, and he quickly lost the ability to string together coherent thoughts as the agony rippled through every inch of him. He screamed, unable to hide his torment, but his voice sounded far away, almost as if he was listening to someone else scream from the other side of the room. The shackles around his wrists cut deeply into his skin as his body began to shake violently, causing blood to fall down his arms and onto his shoulders, but he barely noticed. The pain was simply too overwhelming.

And the pain was excruciating.

The effects of the curse were worse than anything he had ever experienced, worse than any of the times Voldemort had tortured him during the war, but what happened next made him want to do something he had never done before. And if had been capable of words, he might just have done it; he might just have asked Rodolphus to give him the death that would end it all.

One by one, bones began to break all over his body as if he was being crushed by an invisible force. Each fracture, each splinter of bone, tore into the surrounding muscles sending new torrents of pain through his nervous system. And just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, when he thought the curse couldn't wreak any more havoc on his body, blood began to seep from his pores, drenching his entire body in warm, scarlet fluid.

Time passed slowly, and Draco began to slip in and out of consciousness as his lungs began to lose the struggle to pull in enough air. His voice failed eventually, and so the screams stopped, but whimpers still escaped his lips as Rodolphus loomed over him grinning maniacally at his handiwork.

The curse was certainly efficient. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco knew that he wouldn't be able to withstand much more before the life was crushed out of him completely.

Following a particularly loud snap of bone that echoed eerily across the room, Rodolphus released the spell, providing Draco with a momentary reprieve.

"You like this spell?" Rodolphus taunted, twirling his wand between his fingers. "The Vikings were an angry bunch. They were so eager to conquer the world. Their Mages were probably some of the most creative magical beings to ever live. It's a pity, really, that their spells remain so tightly guarded, but fortunately for me, I made a powerful ally."

Despite the debilitating pain, despite the fact that he was clinging to the edge of his sanity, the last part wasn't lost on Draco. Someone out there knew more. Someone, for some ill-advised reason, had taught Rodolphus how to use an ancient, frightening type of magic. _To what end?_ Draco thought as he glared up at his captor.

_That is before I hand her over to someone much, much worse._

To his horror, Draco suddenly realized what that meant. Someone dangerous, someone who had taught a Death Eater how to inflict even more pain than he was already capable of, wanted to hurt Hermione.

It was a few moments before Draco realized Rodolphus was speaking again.

"The blood eagle curse* would have been particularly fitting for your death, but it would have been too easy. Too quick," Rodolphus continued, shivering slightly as the name of the curse rolled off his tongue. " _Meiða_ , on the other hand, is exactly what traitors like you deserve."

The Cruciatus Curse, which Draco was intimately familiar with, was designed to inflict pain (and withstanding it for more than a few seconds was certainly no walk in the park), but whatever curse had just been used on him was clearly designed to take it a step further. Deadly mutilation undoubtedly awaited anyone subjected to the curse for more than a few minutes, and since Rodolphus was not the merciful type, Draco knew what was coming next. He barely had a chance to catch his breath before Rodolphus hit him with the curse again.

If he had any voice left, if he had been capable of any sound at all, his screams would have filled the heavy air around him as his bones continued to twist and snap. Instead, he endured the curse silently, grasping for anything in his mind that would keep him from letting go, anything that would give him just a few more moments of sanity before succumbing to the spell.

_Hermione._

He tried to focus on her face. Her smile. Her hair. Her beautiful brown eyes.

_Hermione._

"Such a waste," Rodolphus sneered while forcefully lifting Draco's head with his hand. "Your whole family is a disgrace. I'm going to take great pleasure in ending the Malfoy line."

Draco was strugglig to keep his airway clear, the blood in his mouth clogging the back of his throat as Rodolphus tipped his head backward.

"Disgusting," Rodolphus said as he roughly let go of Draco's head.

Draco didn't have the strength to keep his head up, and blood began pouring out the corners of his mouth as he hung helplessly against the wall while his body continued to be simultaneously crushed and torn apart by an invisible force. The curse was winning, and he wanted – no, he needed it to end. Whatever this magic was, there was no more fighting it.

It was time to let go.

Tears began to fall down his face, and he wasn't sure if they were because he'd never see her again or because he'd failed to protect her, or both, and it didn't really matter. Hermione was in danger, and if she managed to survive his tyrannical uncle, she would still be alone with no one to warn her about whoever Rodolphus was working for. And it was entirely his fault. He hadn't seen this coming. He hadn't been prepared.

 _Hermione, I'm so sorry_ , Draco thought, even though he knew that she couldn't hear him. _I love you._

 _I love you too,_ came the reply of a soft, familiar voice in his head.

She couldn't be here. He had to be imagining things. He had lost a lot of blood and was inches away from death.

 _You're not real_ , he said to the voice.

_I am real. Draco please, listen to me…_

But Draco's head slumped against his chest and everything went black.

Somewhere above his prison, an earth-shattering scream penetrated the night.

Rodolphus smiled.

Of course, she had come for him. He hadn't expected her to be able to find them, but it certainly made his job a hell of a lot easier.

* * *

Hermione doubled over in pain and vomited as she felt Draco's consciousness disappear. Tears were falling down her cheeks, landing heavily on the floor beneath her as her heart raced out of control.

 _He can't be dead. I need him. We need him_ , she thought as she clutched her womb.

Remembering where she was and what she had come for, she quickly straightened herself up, wiping the vomit from the side of her mouth, and looked around.

 _He's here somewhere_. _I will find him._

She was standing in a large, empty room of an old stone home containing nothing but a crumbling set of stairs and two identical archways leading into opposite wings of the building. There were no signs of someone having lived here recently, but that could easily be disguised.

" _Homenum Ravelio_ ," Hermione whispered.

Her wand vibrated in alarm. She wasn't alone.

She tried to move quietly to the shadows, but a small noise made her jump. A curse came flying at her from somewhere on her left, and she hastily threw up a defensive shield, only just missing being struck. As the curse rebounded, she jumped in the opposite direction and hid in the corner behind the nearest archway.

"You can't hide from me, mudblood," came a deep voice from the other side of the room.

She didn't need to see the man to know who the voice belonged to.

_Rodolphus._

"Where is Draco?" Hermione demanded, clutching her wand tightly. Her body was shaking, but she had never been more determined. She would find Draco even if it killed her.

Slowly, Hermione peeked her head around the wall, hoping to identify Rodolphus' location. But before she had time to blink, another curse came hurtling her way and she was forced to duck back behind the wall.

"You can't save him," Rodolphus laughed, his voice taunting her.

Rodolphus had situated himself behind the wall on the opposite side of the room, and Hermione could just make out the edge of his body as he glanced around the corner toward her. She quickly cast a wordless stupefy but missed his exposed hand by an inch.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to do better than that if you ever want to see your precious blood traitor again."

Three more curses came hurtling Hermione's direction, exploding against the wall. She threw up another shield with her wand and crouched with her hands over her head as the debris rained down around her. A large wooden beam dropped from above as the rest of the ceiling groaned, threatening to collapse.

It was clear her position was precarious, and Hermione began to panic. She was handy with a wand and had survived her fair share of dangerous battles before, but one-on-one duels with dark wizards had never been her strongest skill. That had always been Harry's strength.

 _I need to find a way to get to him before he brings the house down on me_ , she thought.

Her eyes desperately scanned the space around her and landed on a small opening in the wall. It would be tight, but she was confident she could squeeze through. She would have to be fast and quiet to escape Rodolphus' notice, otherwise she risked being exposed to his attacks.

Hermione took a deep breath and made for the opening. The hole was about three feet off the ground, a bit too high for her to swing her legs through first, so she put her arms and head through the opening first and braced her arms on the outside wall. Using the position of her hands, she pushed her shoulders and torso through the opening, and then dropped the top of her body down the outside of the building using gravity to help pull the lower half of her body through the hole. When her legs were finally free, she somersaulted onto the wet grass below and crept quietly along the outside of the building toward Rodolphus' location.

When she reached the location where she believed Rodolphus to be, she squinted through a dirty, broken window. The room was dark, but she could see that the space that she thought he had been occupying was now empty.

 _He must have repositioned_ , she thought as she stood up slowly.

"Hello, mudblood," said a deep voice immediately behind her.

Hermione tried to cast a spell, but Rodolphus was quicker. The backside of his hand contacted the side of her face with a powerful slap, and the force of the blow threw her hard against the stone exterior, her head meeting rock with a loud thud while all of the air left her lungs. Her vision blurred as pain shot through the back of her head, and in her disorientation, Rodolphus grabbed her wand and threw it behind his back.

"My, my, you are a pretty little thing," he said coolly, bringing his face inches away from hers.

Hermione opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Rodolphus had pinned her up against the wall, his wand pointed at her head while his other hand wrapped tightly around her neck.

"I had planned to come for you later, but this is going to be so much more enjoyable," he taunted, his eyes filled with hate.

Hermione recoiled as he wrapped one of her curls around his wand and brought it to his nose to smell. She didn't need to be skilled in Legilimency to figure out his plan for her; it was written all over his face.

"You're vile," Hermione said before spitting on his face.

"You're going to regret that, filthy mudblood," Rodolphus said, wiping his face and then tightening his hold on her neck.

Hermione's hands flew to where his hand was wrapped around her neck, attempting to release the pressure on her airway. A deranged smile spread across the wizard's face as he watched her struggle, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kill her just like this. However, just when her vision started to narrow, just when she thought she had lost, he threw her to the ground, grabbed her legs, and began dragging her back into the abandoned building.

 _Fight_ , she told herself as she gasped for air. _You have to fight._

She kicked her legs wildly and threw her hands out, trying to grab onto anything to stop him from getting her inside, but he was stronger, and everything she managed to grab onto, slipped right through her fingers.

Her thoughts were frantic as he continued to drag her, his fingers never once loosening their grip on her ankles, and she realized quickly that without her wand she needed something, anything solid and hard to fight him off. As they neared the back entrance to the building, she caught sight of a rock partially buried in the long grass and as she was dragged past it, she closed her fist around it and concealed it in her palm, praying that she got the chance to use it before he decided to attack her with magic.

Her continued struggle only seemed to excite Rodolphus, and when he turned to look at her with a crooked smile, she knew this would be her only chance.

"Maybe, you'll be more compliant if I strip you down first," he said, licking his lips.

Rodolphus moved a hand from one of her ankles to reach for his wand, and Hermione didn't hesitate. With her newly freed leg, she kicked upwards forcefully into his groin causing him to growl in pain and let go of her other leg. Then, with the rock concealed in her palm, she hit him as hard as she could across the head. The force of the blow threw Rodolphus off balance; he fell to his knees and dropped his wand, and before he could react, Hermione had it in her hand.

" _Meiða_!" she yelled as she brought herself to her feet above him.

The curse hit Rodolphus in the chest, slamming him against the wall behind him. He was twitching and screaming in pain, his body being visibly mutilated under the weight of the spell. There was no doubt that his was the same curse he had used on the little boy, and although she had no idea how the words had found their way into her mouth, Hermione took pleasure in watching the deranged man suffer.

"I figured out your secret, Rodolphus," Hermione said standing over him, breathing heavily as her hands shook uncontrollable.

She felt a powerful surge of magic fill her body as she spoke, tickling her limbs almost as if to instruct her to enjoy the power of watching the life drain out of the man on the ground in front of her.

"You see, when you failed to kill the young boy you left a single memory, one of a black Ash tree," she continued, her eyes still at fixed on Rodolphus' pitiful face. "I'll admit, it took me awhile to make the connection since Yggdrasil wasn't black, but when I did it all became so obvious."

She was taunting him now, not that he was really listening, but she didn't care. Whatever this magic was it felt… well, it felt amazing, and she didn't want it to stop.

"You've been digging up ancient Norse spells," she said, keeping the wand raised. "Our modern spells are ineffective against them because our ways of binding nature to our spells have changed. But I, a filthy little mudblood, figured it out."

When the last sentence left her mouth, she shivered.

 _What am I doing?_ she thought, blinking and finally focusing on the carnage in front of her. _If I kill him, I'm no better than him. If I kill him, I may not be able to find Draco._

And so, despite the euphoria she felt from casting the curse, Hermione released the spell and pointed the wand at Rodolphus' temple.

"Tell me where Draco is," she demanded. "And maybe I'll let you live."

Rodolphus laughed, blood spilling out of his mouth. His injuries didn't matter; he was going to enjoy what happened next.

"You're too late," he spat. "He's already dead."

"You're lying!" Hermione shouted pushing the wand hard into his skull as she fought the urge to torture him again.

"Go see for yourself," Rodolphus said with a bloody grin. "He's down there."

Hermione followed the broken man's gaze to a trap door on the other side of the room.

_Draco._

It was the only thought she needed to break herself free from whatever trance the magic had put her under, and she quickly bound Rodolphus in a thick set of ropes before dropping his wand to her side. As much as she would have enjoyed watching him die, as much as the magic she had just used called to her, she knew that wasn't who she really was. Nothing mattered more than getting to Draco. Nothing.

 _I'll leave him for Harry to find_.

She stupefied him and checked that the ropes were tight before turning away. Then, unsure if she could cast a Patronus with a Death Eater's wand, she Accio'd her wand from the grass nearby and snapped Rodolphus' in half.

Ignoring the pain on the back of her head, she lifted her wand and took a deep breath.

"Harry. I found Rodolphus. He has Draco. Come quickly," she spoke before releasing the spell.

Her Patronus startled her when she saw it because instead of an otter, which it had been since she had first learned the spell, a silver dragon exited her wand and disappeared into the night. While on any other night she would have stopped to digest what that meant, tonight she didn't even bother.

She ran.

When she reached the trap door Rodolphus had pointed out, she threw it open and raced down the narrow stairs, her heart beating so furiously that she thought it might jump out of her chest.

_He can't be dead. He can't be._

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she casted a Lumos and cried out when she saw a broken, bloody figure chained to the wall on the other side of the room.

"Draco!" she screamed.

He didn't respond.

She ran over to him and placed her hands on his chest, but he wasn't moving.

_No. No. NO._

She took his head in her hands and lifted it up, horrified at what she found. Every inch of his porcelain skin was covered in blood, and more prominent tracks of blood traveled from the edges of his mouth down his chin. She brought her fingers to his blood drenched neck, searching for a pulse, but found nothing.

"NO!" Hermione's legs buckled and she fell to the ground in front of him sobbing. "Draco, please. You have to come back to me. I'm– I'm pregnant. I can't do this without you."

Hermione lifted her shaking hands and cast every healing spell she knew, but nothing happened. She threw her head against his body, incoherently begging for him to wake up, hoping against all odds that her voice would rouse him. But when he still didn't move, she screamed, clinging to his body and ignoring the blood – _his blood_ – that was quickly soaking through her clothes.

She was still screaming when they found her.

Hermione didn't hear the sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs. She didn't feel Harry pry her away from Draco's body or hear him yelling for help. The pain was too overwhelming.

She had failed.

He was gone.

* * *

Hermione awoke with a start. She looked around confused, slowly taking in her surroundings as her eyes adjusted to the light. She was dressed in a simple white hospital gown and was laying under a set of soft blue blankets in a sparsely furnished white her head. Harry was asleep on a chair next to the bed, his head bent strangely as if sleep had taken him by surprise.

 _St Mungo's,_ she thought sighing to herself.

Shifting her body upright, she tried to remember how she had ended up in the hospital. Her mind was hazy, and her thoughts were slow almost as if she had been drugged, but she knew something bad must have happened.

She could feel it in her bones.

As she sat there trying to remember, a set of piercing grey eyes flashed behind in her eyes. They were so beautiful, and whoever they belonged to, she wanted to stare at them forever. But then another image invaded her mind – blood, so much blood – and her body recoiled in horror.

The image was real - _too real_. It couldn't be some forgotten nightmare, couldn't be some side effect of a drug she had been given; she had seen this before.

_What happened?_

And then, like a freight train, her memories came flooding back.

"Draco," she whispered, the weight of her loss crushing the breath out of her as tears streamed down her face.

Next to the bed, Harry stirred, her cries bringing him out of an uncomfortable sleep.

"Hermione!" he nearly yelled as he blinked his eyes open and realized she was awake. "Thank Merlin, you're alright!"

Harry sat up in his chair, his eyes filled with anguish. They had needed to sedate her after pulling her away from Draco's body, and while she had been asleep for only a few hours, he hadn't been sure what would happen when she woke up. A shiver traveled down his spine as he tried to push away the memory of Hermione's heart wrenching screams as she had clung to Draco's limp, bloody body.

Hermione blinked, looking over at her friend, but the look on Harry's face was too much. She couldn't look at him. She could barely handle the weight of her own pain and couldn't handle the addition of someone else's.

"Hermione–"

"I don't need your pity, Harry," she said harshly, lifting her head. "He's gone. I was too late."

"Hermione, listen to–"

"Why?!" she interrupted again, this time raising her voice. "So you can tell me that I did everything I could? That there was nothing else I could do?" She looked at Harry with chilling ire, daring him to tell her she was wrong.

"Hermione! Listen to me," Harry managed, grabbing her hands softly in an attempt to keep her from coming unhinged. "Draco is alive."

Her heart stopped. _Alive?_

"Hermione, he's alive," Harry said again, his eyes glassy with his own tears.

And suddenly, she couldn't breathe.

"Www-what," she stuttered, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. "No, I saw him. He wasn't moving. He was covered in blood. His body was– Harry, he didn't have a pulse."

An obvious flash of pain crossed Harry's eyes.

"When Dean and I pulled Draco out of the dungeon, he woke up and tried to speak to us," he explained, pausing to take a deep breath. "He lost consciousness again as we rushed him here, but somehow he survived."

"Where is he?" Hermione demanded, her body trembling. She didn't care about the details. All that mattered was him. She needed to see him. She needed to be with him.

"Hermione, I think we should let the Healers check to make sure–"

"Harry James Potter, you take me to him right now!" Hermione shouted, her eyes wide and frantic.

Harry was quiet for a moment before he spoke.

"Alright. Okay, I'll take you," Harry said softly, offering his arm to help her out of bed. He didn't argue. There was no point. If he was in her position, if Ginny had been tortured the way Draco had been, he would be acting exactly the same way.

Hermione's legs were weak, but with Harry's support they were able to shuffle out of her room and down the hallway to Draco's room. When they reached the last door on the right, Harry stopped. He had been quiet as they walked down the hall but felt that he should warn her.

"Before I take you in–"

"Harry, if you don't help me through this door right this second, I will start screaming."

He swallowed and then nodded. He wanted to prepare her for what she was about to see, but it was clear her patience was wearing thin. Carefully, he pushed open the door and led her inside.

Hermione gasped when she saw what was waiting for her in the room.

Draco was lying in the bed, his body bloodied and mutilated almost beyond recognition. Most of his body was covered in blood stained bandages, and the parts that weren't covered were deeply bruised. A thick bandage was wrapped around his head, beneath which his signature platinum hair was stained red. His chest, where her hands had spent so many hours memorizing his perfectly shaped muscles, was contorted and concave. One of his arms was bent awkwardly, while the other was in some sort of cast. She couldn't see his legs under the covers, but blood had soaked into the blankets above them. If she hadn't seen the oxygen supply feeding his lungs, she wouldn't have believed that he was alive.

"Is– is he– will he be okay?" Hermione asked, shaking with the shock of the image in front of her but unable to look away.

"He's in a coma," Harry explained quietly. "The Healers haven't been able to wake him up, and they're struggling to heal his wounds. Draco's memories are so scattered that we haven't been able to figure out exactly what was done to him."

"You have the man who did this to him," Hermione said with a look of disgust on her face. "Why haven't you asked him?"

"Rodolphus is being treated for injuries very similar to Draco's, although they're not quite as extensive," Harry started carefully. "Hermione, what happened? Did you–"

"He was using an ancient Norse curse," Hermione told him, refusing to tear her eyes away from Draco.

"Norse curse?" Harry repeated.

"The tree. It was an Ash tree, just like Odin's tree." She paused, lifting her hand to the side of Draco's face and gently ran her fingers along his cheek. "Rodolphus was using an old Viking hideout. I assume the curse he used was one that the Vikings created to conquer and bend people to their will."

"Vikings?"

"I don't know how he knew about it – the curse, it's powerful," she tried to explain, still not taking her eyes off Draco.

Hermione's body trembled as the memory of using (and enjoying) the same curse on Rodolphus flooded her mind.

"If you know what Rodolphus did to Draco, the Healers will need to speak with you," Harry said softly, not entirely understanding what she was trying to tell him. "Hermione–"

"I have notes and books at your house," Hermione mumbled, no longer able to focus on anything but the broken man lying in front of her. She would explain the details later.

"I'll send someone to grab them," Harry said quietly.

He knew it wasn't the time to push her, so he decided to wait to question her further. It was clear something terrible had happened, that Hermione had done something she probably shouldn't have, but Harry couldn't quite bring himself to believe that she was capable of using dark magic on someone, not even someone like Rodolphus.

Hermione stared at Draco as if she was in a trance. Her eyes glazed over as her breathing became labored. _What if he never wakes up? What if he's stuck like this, in pain forever?_ Tears fell silently down her face, but she didn't even bother to wipe them away.

"Hermione, I think you might be in shock. I should take you back–"

"I'm not going anywhere!" Hermione shouted, tearing her eyes away from Draco momentarily to glare at Harry.

"Okay," Harry said, throwing his hands in the air. "I need to send a few owls, but send one of the nurses if you need me."

When she was finally alone with him, Hermione inched forward in the chair and placed her hand softly on top of Draco's twisted fingers. She almost expected his eyes to snap open at her touch, but they didn't.

"Draco– Draco, it's me," she whispered. "Please wake up. I need you to come back to me. Please. We need you."

Nothing.

The panic settled in next. She thought seeing him alive might calm her down, but this was almost worse. He was broken, and it was her fault. She would never forgive herself. Why had it taken so long for her to put the pieces together? How could she have let this happen?

* * *

Harry walked out of Draco's room and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. The horrors of the Battle of Hogwarts still kept him up some nights, but the image of Hermione clinging to Draco's bloody, horrifically disfigured body in the dungeon of an old, abandoned building would haunt him for the rest of his life. While he had no idea how she had managed to find the damn tree, and while he had been furious when he found out she had left his house without calling for backup, he knew that Draco wouldn't be alive if she hadn't.

"Harry," came a voice from his left.

Harry opened his eyes and let out a small sigh of relief.

"Dean, I was just about to send you an owl," he said quickly, pushing himself off the wall. "I need you to run to my house and grab some things Hermione was working on. I think she knows something about what happened to Draco. She's in shock though, so I'm not entirely sure what you're supposed to be looking for."

"No problem," Dean said quickly before adding, "Narcissa Malfoy is here. I left her in the waiting room with the guards, but I'm not sure how long they'll be able to keep her there."

"Yes. Probably best considering…" Harry trailed off. "I'll go talk to her once Hermione has had some time alone with him."

"How is he?" Dean asked, motioning his head toward the closed door next to Harry.

"I don't know," Harry responded. "The Healers aren't even sure how he survived. His injuries are horrific. They don't know if or when they'll be able to wake him up."

"I don't– seeing him down there like that–" Dean swallowed heavily, unable to finish his thought. His eyes glazed over as he stared blankly down the hallway.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as a wave of nausea passed through his body.

"It was– he–" Harry choked on his words. "I can't believe he's alive. If Hermione hadn't found him…"

The two Aurors were quiet, neither of them able to articulate the horror of what they had seen after answering Hermione's Patronus. Both men had witnessed terrible things during their time as Aurors, but something about what had been done to Draco was different. Something about the torture, about whatever magic had been used, was more terrifying than anything they'd seen. Despite Rodolphus' proclivity for violence, it seemed odd that he, a Death Eater who had been in hiding for nine years, had stumbled upon something so powerful on his own. Whatever this magic was, Harry doubted they had seen the last of it.

"I know it's late, but we need to call everyone in," Harry said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "We may have captured Rodolphus, but something tells me this is just the beginning."

"I'll get out the call after stopping by your place," Dean replied, nodding. "I'll be back as quickly as I can."

Harry watched until Dean disappeared down the hallway, and when he was finally alone, he realized that for the first time in a long time, he was completely unsure about what to do next.

While Hermione had been asleep, a Healer told Harry that she was pregnant and that fortunately whatever had happened to her in that house hadn't harmed the baby. It had certainly been a shock for him, but then again, it definitely explained some of her actions over the past couple weeks. She had probably known for a while, he reasoned.

"WHERE IS MY SON?!" a voice bellowed down the hallway.

Harry turned in time to see Narcissa Malfoy with her wand raised, speeding past the guards at the end of the hallway.

"Fuck," Harry grumbled to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all really didn't think I'd kill Draco off, did you?
> 
> Anyways, I do apologize for all of the gore, but it is an important, albeit unpleasant, piece of the puzzle, and so I didn't want to leave it out.
> 
> *I will not describe the Viking's blood eagle execution method here because it is unbelievably disturbing – on par with or worse than being hanged, drawn and quartered. Google (or watch one of the couple scenes of this from Vikings) at your own risk.
> 
> meiða (Old norse) ~ maim, injure, hurt, damage. The Norse letter ð is pronounced 'th' like in there.


	19. A Bout of Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - Visions of Gideon by Sufjan Stevens, everything i wanted by Billie Eilish, and Halo by Beyonce

Narcissa Malfoy was most definitely not a patient woman. She demanded excellence in every aspect of her life, even down to the smallest of details, and so the slow progress that the Healers were making in mending her son's horrific injuries was infuriating.

"This shouldn't be so difficult!" she snapped at the last Healer who had tried to assure her that they were doing everything they could. "His bones are broken. Fix them!"

It didn't matter how many times Harry Potter tried to tell her that Draco's injuries weren't as simple as they appeared, that the Healers needed to take their time to understand the complicated, unfamiliar curse that had been used brutally on her son. Draco was her only child. She already thought she had lost him once after the war, and when he returned, she realized that he was the only good thing left in her life. They needed to fix him. He needed to wake up.

The only other person who seemed to share the same level of frustration with the glacial repair of her son's body was Hermione. The young witch had barely left his side in the four weeks since Draco had been admitted to St Mungo's, and despite Narcissa's earlier reservations, they had formed a strange sort of alliance.

In all fairness, the progression of their relationship from the swamps of mistrust to the blind sort of faith typical reserved for loved ones was only natural for two woman who cared so deeply about the same person. Yes, Hermione loved Draco, that much was obvious to anyone that walked into the room, but Narcissa wasn't just anyone, and she had quickly sensed there was something deeper going on, something that the young witch was either too scared or embarrassed to admit.

"You're pregnant with his child," Narcissa had said simply one morning.

Hermione had done her best to hide it, but Narcissa was observant. She noticed the young witch's regular trips to the bathroom, and the involuntary movement of her hands to her belly. She noticed when Hermione said 'we' when 'I' would have sufficed. She noticed the glow that filled her cheeks despite her palpable despair.

"Yes," Hermione had replied without hesitation, seemingly relieved that someone had finally figured out her secret.

It hadn't been how she expected to become a grandmother, nor had it been with a woman she would have picked for her son, but none of that mattered anymore. Narcissa would protect Hermione and the unborn child with her life, and not even her volatile husband, who had taken to locking himself in his study most days since Draco had been found, would be able to sway her to feel otherwise. Even if Draco never recovered, she would make sure Hermione and the child were always taken care of and that they never wanted for anything.

In the aftermath of the attack, Narcissa and Hermione fell into an odd but familiar routine. Both women would show up to the hospital early after a restless night of sleep, sneaking in before the official visiting hours began – not that anyone could have stopped if they had tried – and would stay until well after the sun had set. Some days, Narcissa would run a few errands, returning an hour or so later with an armful of gifts for Hermione or the baby, but no matter how many times or ways people tried to convince her otherwise, Hermione never left during the day. It was hard enough leaving Draco alone each and every night; she simply couldn't stand not being by his side.

"Hermione, darling," Narcissa said early one afternoon, pausing to look up from her book on a day not unlike the many that had passed before. "You really should try to eat something."

Hermione nodded slowly from her position in the armchair next to Draco's bed, momentarily glancing in the older witch's direction to communicate her agreement before returning her attention to the man in the bed.

"Wally!" the older witch called, her soft voice ringing across the room.

With a crack, a small house-elf dressed in a long black shirt and a bright green hat appeared and bowed.

"How may Wally serve you, mistress?" he asked with a smile, his large blue eyes sparkling under the overly harsh hospital lights.

Hermione hadn't been all that surprised the first time Narcissa called Wally to the hospital, she had never pictured the Malfoys as ones to do their own housework, but when she observed the older witch's gentle demeanor and noticed the cheerful elf's clothing, she realized that Draco hadn't been the only Malfoy to turn over a new leaf since the war.

"Will you please bring us some tea?" Narcissa asked, pausing to contemplate what would best settle Hermione's ever churning stomach. "And some warm soup and toast for Hermione."

"Yes, mistress. Right away!" Wally replied before disappearing, another crack echoing across the room.

Only a few moments passed before the house elf returned, balancing two cups of tea, a large bowl of chicken noodle soup, and a small plate of toast above one of his small hands.

"Anything else, mistresses?" the elf inquired after placing the items on the small table in the corner of the room.

Hermione shook her head and smiled at the elf. "I'm fine, Wally. Thank you for the food."

"You're very welcome mistress!" Wally squeaked happily.

"I think this will do for now," Narcissa replied sweetly from her spot on the couch at the other side of the room.

Wally bowed again, his long ears nearly touching the ground, and quickly disappeared, leaving the two women alone once again.

Hermione stood slowly, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the pale man deep asleep on the bed and moved to a seat at the small table near the entrance to the room. Despite her discomfort at leaving Draco's side, even for a minute, she felt her stomach growl eagerly with hunger as she sat down at the table. A bowl of chicken noodle soup wouldn't normally make her this excited, nor would it normally be enough to pull her away from someone she loved, but it had been days since anything looked or smelt even remotely appetizing, and she was thankful she had finally found something that didn't want to make her want to immediately run to the loo and vomit.

"It smells delicious," she said, picking up her spoon.

"Oh, thank goodness," Narcissa said as she moved into the seat next to Hermione. "I was beginning to worry that we weren't going to be able to get enough food in you this week."

Narcissa took a sip of tea and smiled as she watched Hermione devour the soup. It had been a hard couple of days. Hermione hadn't been able to keep much down, and her nausea had kept her from being able to stomach little more than dry toast. The potions that the Healers had prescribed were, much to Narcissa's displeasure, helping very little, and so it was a good sign that the young witch was finally enjoying some food.

"Have you made a decision about my offer to move you into the garden home at the Manor?" Narcissa asked after a few minutes, placing her cup back on the table in front of her as she spoke.

Hermione looked up from her meal and rested her spoon against the almost empty bowl. Despite it having been nearly ten years, she wasn't sure she would feel comfortable living so close to the place where she had once been tortured. She knew that's why Narcissa had offered her space outside of the main home, but without Draco, she wasn't sure she could handle being there, especially with a moody Lucius lurking around, and for now, she was happy to remain at Harry's.

"I know you're probably more comfortable with Harry and Ginny, but I just don't like you being so far away," Narcissa continued. "I would just feel a lot better if you were at least on the same property as me."

"Your offer is really kind," Hermione began, smiling weakly. "But I just don't think I'm ready to move yet."

Narcissa nodded sadly. She was disappointed, but she hadn't really been expecting Hermione to accept her offer right away. If things continued the way that they were, if Draco still wasn't awake in a few weeks, she would try again. She couldn't stand the thought of not being close enough to protect Hermione and the child if something were to happen.

"You're always welcome if you change your mind," Narcissa said sweetly.

"Thank you," Hermione replied before taking a bite of toast.

It had been awkward at first, having Narcissa around, but Hermione grew to enjoy the older witch's company. Despite their differences, despite fighting on opposite sides during the war and her marriage to a man with a long list of (at best) questionable morales, her presence was calming. It was like having a piece of Draco around, and it made her time in the hospital a little easier. Every day, Narcissa would make sure Hermione ate, something she would have otherwise often forgotten, and talked to the Healers so that she wouldn't have to deal with any more bad news. And then, when Hermione became overwhelmed with Draco's condition, Narcissa would comfort her and then distract her by telling her funny stories from his childhood.

Hiding her pregnancy from everyone around her had been difficult, especially when her morning sickness became too difficult to manage on her own, so it had come as a relief when Narcissa figured it out. Hermione suspected the woman had known a lot sooner than when she had finally brought it up but appreciated that she had waited until Draco had been in a more stable condition. While Hermione had half-expected Narcissa to complain about her unwed son impregnating someone, a Muggle-born no less, she had been nothing but thrilled and immediately slid into the role of doting grandmother.

Hermione was appreciative of Narcissa's support, especially when it came to keeping Lucius' temper at bay the few times he had visited the hospital. More importantly, since her own parents couldn't be there for her, she was incredibly thankful that she had a mother figure to help her cope with things while Draco remained unconscious. As odd as it may have seemed to anyone outside of the room, she wasn't sure how she would have gotten through the past few weeks without Narcissa by her side. Interestingly enough, that wasn't the only surprising revelation she had made since Narcissa came into her life.

From Hermione's perspective, blood had always seemed like a silly thing to care about, but her impending motherhood had turned that belief, at least somewhat, on its head. Of course, she would never be able to understand the obsession to keep bloodlines 'pure' and that would certainly never change, but her fast and powerful bond with a woman who had been a mere stranger a few short months ago, and a mortal enemy a decade prior, was proof enough that the blood of her child, in fact, mattered a whole fucking lot. The two women were now linked by more than their roles in the war, more than their shared love for Draco, and nothing would ever be able to sever that connection.

Blood, it seemed, meant quite a bit more than she had ever let herself believe.

"It looks like you enjoyed the meal," Narcissa observed, chuckling softly, her slender, manicured fingers curled delicately around her cup of tea.

"Hopefully I'll manage to keep it down," Hermione said, staring down at the empty bowl in front of her. She was surprised that she had eaten so quickly, but then again, it had been days since she'd eaten anything other than dry toast, and something was bound to have tasted good eventually.

"If you'd like, I'll have Wally bring you some more later today," Narcissa offered, her soft blue eyes studying the witch next to her as she spoke.

"That would be nice, thank you," Hermione replied, moving her hands to her lap.

The two women were quiet for a moment, both of them staring absentmindedly at different corners of the wall while they finished their tea. It was another thing Hermione liked about Narcissa; she, unlike many of the visitors who pestered her throughout the week, never felt a need to force conversation.

"I need to run a few errands in Diagon," the witch announced after taking a final sip of her tea. "Do you need me to get you anything?"

Hermione knew very well that those "errands" were simply an excuse for Narcissa to purchase more things for the baby, but by this point, she knew better than to protest with a Malfoy.

"No, I think I'm alright."

Narcissa smiled as she stood up. "I'll be back in an hour or so," she said as she smoothed the front of her dark blue robes. "If you need anything, send Wally to find me," she added, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder and squeezing it lovingly before exiting the room.

Hermione watched the door shut before moving back to her position next to the bed where she sank deeply into the soft chair, her hands falling reflexively to her stomach. While it was a relief that most of Draco's superficial injuries were healed and that the blood on his body long since washed away, it was still troubling that some of his bones were taking longer to respond to treatment. His chest was moving slowly under the sheets, but his eyes twitched rapidly under his eyelids as if he was trapped in a bad dream. She brought a hand to the side of his face and ran her fingers softly along his jawline, hoping her touch could soothe him even in his deep sleep, that somewhere inside he would know he was safe.

"Come back to us," she begged softly.

Her tears had run out weeks ago, but the crippling pain in her heart never went away. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone, and her regret at not telling him how she really felt was tearing her apart.

* * *

Despite the sadness that hung around her, which with each day that Draco remained asleep clawed its way deeper into the depth of her bones, Hermione finally mustered the courage to tell everyone else about the baby.

Rather unfortunately for Lucius Malfoy, her new bout of honesty kicked in on the very day that he decided to make a rare appearance at the hospital.

"Pregnant?" he repeated, completely dumbfounded, his eyes boring a hole into Hermione's stomach after being told the news.

"Yes," Hermione replied, unsure what else she could say in response. _Deal with it_ , she thought, glaring at him.

"Well, isn't this just the cherry on top," he said sarcastically, his eyes flickering over to his son's sleeping form.

To be fair, Hermione had been expecting much worse, especially coming from him, but his words still stung.

"Lucius," Narcissa warned, her voice soft but her glare threatening to set him on actual fire. "Hermione is family now."

Lucius snorted, make a noise quite uncharacteristically common for a man with his pedigree. "Perhaps," he said, somewhat harshly, refocusing his attention on Hermione. "But how can we be sure?"

"If you're implying that I've been sleeping with someone other than your son," Hermione began before Narcissa could intervene, her hands balled into fists at her sides, "you could at least have the balls the say it out loud."

She half expected Lucius to whip out his wand, but instead, she caught a twitch at the corner of his lips as if he were trying to hold back a smile.

"And not that I actually care whether you believe me or not," she continued, finding it particularly difficult to restrain herself now that the floodgates were open, "but Draco is the father." She paused, refusing to cower under his continued gaze, which was, uncomfortably, far too similar to his son's. "So, I guess you better get used to someone calling you grandpa, _GRANDPA_ ," she taunted, emphasizing the last word to ensure that he got the message.

Neither Narcissa or Lucius made an effort to respond right away, both seemingly caught off guard by her minor outburst, and in the ensuing silence, Hermione worried that she had taken it a step too far.

 _Better a step too far than not far enough_ , she told herself.

"I suppose she'll do," Lucius said finally, looking over at his wife with a strange look in his eyes – 0ne that, if Hermione could believe her own eyes, was almost proud.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise as she stared at him confused.

Had Lucius Malfoy really just given her his approval?

She turned toward Narcissa, hoping that she would have some rational explanation what had just happened, but found the witch's face filled with a level of shock that mirrored her own.

_Well fuck._

Apparently, he fucking had.

Somewhat bolstered by Lucius' unexpected approval (or whatever the hell he had meant by _she'll do_ ), Hermione told Ginny about the baby during her visit to the hospital later that day.

"OH MY GOD!" Ginny screamed as she rushed over to hug Hermione, seemingly unperturbed about the amount of noise she was making. "How long have you known?"

"Erm," Hermione mumbled, eyeing Harry nervously. "A few weeks."

"A few weeks!" Ginny exclaimed, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and pushing her away in surprise. "And you didn't tell anyone?"

Hermione, unsure of what to say without implicating Harry, shook her head. "I really didn't tell anyone," she said when Ginny wouldn't stop staring at her in disbelief.

"Oh my god," Ginny said loudly, swiveling her head to face her husband. "You knew, didn't you?"

"I– um," Harry began, his awkward smile already giving him away.

And before he had a chance to explain, Ginny reach over and smacked him in the back of the head. "How could you not tell me?!"

"It's not his fault," Hermione tried to explain, looking at Harry apologetically as he rubbed at the back of his head. "He only found out because he was listed as my medical contact when I was admitted here."

Ginny, who was looking between Harry and Hermione as if to decide just who to be angry at more, was quiet for a moment before responding.

"I can't believe neither of you told me," she lamented quietly. "But I forgive you," she added, turning back to face Hermione. "BECAUSE OUR KIDS ARE GOING TO GROW UP TOGETHER AND BE BEST FRIENDS!" she shrieked, pulling Hermione in for another suffocating hug.

Out of all of Ginny's attributes, this was one thing Hermione never got used to; the woman was louder than a gaggle of pixies on a rampage.

"Yes," Hermione managed finally in response. Peeking over Ginny's shoulder, she locked eyes with Harry and smiled what felt like her first few smile in weeks. "The best of friends."

When Theo visited the hospital two days later, he wasn't even the least bit surprised about the news, mumbling something under his breath about the potent Malfoy genes.

"Well, at least we know that kid is going to have one hell of a godfather," he said, swinging his leg over the side of his chair.

"And by _one hell of a godfather_ , I hope you mean me," Harry, who had for some reason decided to start coordinating his visits with Theo, replied from his seat on the other side of the room.

"Oh please, Potter," Theo snorted. "Of course I don't mean you. I'm the obvious choice here."

"That's a preposterous idea," Harry proclaimed, pausing to shove his glasses back up his nose. "Hermione, tell him."

Hermione just rolled her eyes. It was always like this with these two. What did it matter that she was the one growing the child?

"Hah!" Theo said, pointing at her face. "She agrees with me."

"I hate both of you," she said finally, waving both of them off before turning away to look at Draco.

She chuckled quietly as she listened to the two men continued to bicker about the merits of their possible godfather-doms, but the juxtaposition of the happiness she felt being around friends with the sadness she felt each time she returned her attention to the man still fast asleep in the hospital bed wasn't lost on her.

 _Everyone's getting along now_ , she wanted to say. _You can wake up now._

But of course, he didn't.

* * *

"Merlin's balls, Granger," came a voice from the doorway. "Are you still here?"

Hermione looked up from her seat next to Draco's bed, catching sight of a familiar face, and smiled.

"I'm always here, Theo," she replied, brushing a rogue curl away from her face. "You know that."

Theo glided into the room, flopped a bag on the table, and paused next to the end of the bed, his eyes flickering momentarily over the sleeping body under the blankets. It was never surprising to find Draco still asleep each time he visited, but that didn't stop him from hoping differently each time he walked through the door.

"How's Theodore junior doing?" he asked after a moment, gesturing toward Hermione's small but growing baby bump. "Cooking nicely, I hope"

"First of all, you know that I have no idea if the baby's a boy or a girl," she began, standing up to hug the man who, as strange as she would have found it a few short months ago, was quickly becoming one of her closest friends. "Second of all, and for the thousandth time, I don't ever recall handing over the naming rights of my child to _you_."

"Minor details," Theo quipped, waving his hand in the air. "You'll come around eventually."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Theodore Malfoy doesn't really roll off the tongue."

"And Draco Malfoy does?" he retorted, pulling a chair up next to Hermione and taking a seat. "I swear, if you name your child something ghastly like Serpens..."

"That would be a bit too on the nose, don't you think?" she replied, smirking.

"Narcissa can be very persuasive," Theo said, sitting down and crossing one leg over the other. "I suppose anything is better than Leo. The look on Lucius' face when she suggested it is something that I'll cherish until the end of my days."

Hermione laughed and folded her legs in front of her, her feet resting on the edge of the chair and arms wrapped around her shins.

"Agreed," she said, propping her chin on her knees.

"Any news?" Theo asked as he glanced over at Draco again, his voice suddenly taking on a more serious tone.

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing new."

"I can't believe that he's still asleep," Theo breathed, his eyes locked on the sleeping body in front of him. "I didn't think it would take this long for him to heal."

"Me neither," Hermione mumbled, her eyes suddenly glazing over.

In the past few days, she'd become increasingly worried that he'd be stuck in limbo forever – not dead, but not really alive either – and the sorrow she had felt finding him tortured and bloody had begun to creep its way back into her brain. While she knew she couldn't let herself succumb to the darkness again, that their child needed her to be strong, she worried that she wouldn't be able to shake the all-consuming grief away.

Theo, catching the look on her face, reached out and placed his hand over hers.

"He's a fighter," he said quietly, trying to reassure her even as his own doubts swirled in his head. "He'll wake up shouting at us for doing something wrong."

He knew she was in pain, hell he was in pain, they all were, but he couldn't let her lose hope. Draco needed her.

Hermione swallowed heavily, trying to rid herself of the gruesome images flashing behind her eyes, and nodded slowly.

"Hopefully this–" she said, pointing toward her stomach, "–won't send him right back into a coma."

"He's a big boy," Theo responded, his eyes flickering back to his friend. "I think he can handle it."

Hermione was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "Theo, what do I do if he never wakes up?" she asked, looking over at him, her voice quavering as she spoke.

He wasn't sure he could give her the answer she wanted, but he knew what Draco would want him to say, and so he told her that instead.

"You live," he told her, squeezing her hand. "You spoil that kid rotten and teach him how to be the smartest wizard in school," he paused, smiling as he imagined a miniature version of Draco and Hermione running around with a wand in his hand. "And you make goddamn sure that child is sorted into Slytherin," he added for his own amusement.

* * *

Harry was sitting alone in his office, his head in his hands as he tried to ease his pounding headache. Six weeks had passed since Harry and Dean had pulled Draco out of that dungeon, but despite the endless rounds of healing potions and tonics, Draco was still in a coma. While he would never utter it out loud, especially not around Hermione or Narcissa, Harry was beginning to worry that Draco would never wake up.

Hermione's capture of Rodolphus should have been the end of things, but it was obvious from the moment Harry had followed Hermione's Patronus past the threshold into the old hideout that there was more to the story. Something strange was going on, and Harry needed to get to the bottom of it before someone else got hurt. Given her knack for figuring these sorts of things out, he would have liked to task Hermione with uncovering whatever secrets lurked behind Rodolphus' attack, but he knew that as long as Draco remained unconscious, he wouldn't be able to pry her from his side.

To further complicate the situation, in the days after the incident, Hermione had made a somewhat shocking admission. She told Harry that she had cast a curse on Rodolphus, one that she had no memory of uncovering in any of the texts she had stacked in her office or at Harry's home.

" _It– it just came to me," she had admitted weakly._

" _Came to you?" Harry asked, confused._

" _I don't know how to describe it. The word just– I opened my mouth and it– it came out" Hermione tried to explain._

Harry had never heard of someone spontaneously cursing another human being before and had been hesitant to believe her at first. However, every Ministry owned text related to ancient Norse mythology and magic had been searched, including the ones in Hermione's possession, and they had found nothing to suggest it was something she could have come across in her research. Even her memories, which she had eventually offered to him, showed nothing but surprise and confusion when she heard herself utter the word. Fortunately, the Healers concluded that the curse Hermione used on Rodolphus was mostly likely the same curse he had used on Draco, although Rodolphus had clearly committed more fanatically to its application than she had, and Harry had at least been able to check one mystery of his list.

To make matters worse, Rodolphus wasn't speaking. After he had been healed and taken to Azkaban, he refused to say a single word resorting instead to sullen silence. He also, unfortunately and despite multiple attempts, had been rather successful at fighting the effects of Veritaserum and Legilimency during his interrogations, making it impossible to discern exactly what had caused him to go after Draco by force.

 _Fuck whoever it was that had taught him how to do that_ , Harry had wanted to shout on multiple occasions.

With no new leads and no idea what to do next, the Aurors were, metaphorically speaking, fumbling around in the dark. Harry felt very little relief that nothing had happened since Draco was kidnapped and tortured. His instincts (and experience) told him someone else had been pulling the strings, but without any compelling information to support his theory, he was eventually forced to send most of the Aurors back to their normal duties and to disband most of the larger team assembled to catch Rodolphus.

A noise brought Harry out of his trance, and he lifted his head to see the Minister standing in his open doorway.

"Sorry for disturbing you, Harry," Kingsley said, his eyes underlain by dark circles. "I can come by tomorrow if you're busy."

"No, I'm free," Harry replied, quickly attempting to flatten the hair on his head. "It's just been a long day."

"They've definitely all felt that way for the past few weeks," Kingsley agreed, moving into the room. "Any news about Draco?"

Harry shook his head. "No," he told him sadly. "Hermione and Narcissa are with him every day, but there haven't been any signs of him waking up. The Healers are still repairing a few of his bones, but after that, I'm told there's not much else they can do."

"And Hermione?" Kingsley asked, his eyebrows raised slightly in concern.

"I don't really know," Harry said honestly. "If I even hint at anything remotely related to Draco, she shuts down."

It was worrying that Hermione had been so reclusive. Although he saw her multiple times a week during his own visits to the hospital, Hermione didn't invite that much conversation when he was around. When he did manage to get her to talk, she seemed very distant, as if she was lost in a flood of her own thoughts with no possible way of escaping. Both Narcissa and Theo assured Harry that they would look after Hermione when he wasn't around, but it was difficult knowing that there was really nothing he could do to help.

"Who's on guard tonight?" Kingsley inquired, shifting his weight on his feet.

Despite the fact that Harry had pulled most of the Aurors from the case, the Minister had insisted that Harry keep an Auror on guard at St. Mungo's while Draco healed. Like Harry, he suspected that there was more to Rodolphus' sudden reappearance than vengeance, and he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Dean is there with the security team for the next couple of nights," Harry informed him. "I told him I would take over later this week now that Ginny and Lily are settled in at home.

Lily had been born shortly after Draco's admittance to the hospital, a beacon of good news in an otherwise depressing few weeks, and while it had been an extremely happy time for his family, he couldn't help but feel guilty that Hermione may have to bring her own child into the world without Draco by her side.

"Let's bring in a few others for night duty over the next couple of weeks," Kingsley said, rubbing his eyes. "I'd like to keep you and Dean on this full time, so I'd prefer if you two weren't also manning the overnight shifts."

"I'll gather a new team first thing tomorrow."

"I haven't felt quite this helpless since Voldemort," Kingsley admitted after a few moments. "I doubt whoever is responsible for all of this plans to stay hidden forever."

"It doesn't sit well with me either," Harry agreed, shaking his head slightly. "I was hoping we'd have Hermione back by now, but–"

"She'll come back when she's ready," Kingsley assured him.

Harry sighed and readjusted his glasses.

"I contacted a few of the Scandinavian Ministries," Harry explained, shifting the conversation away from Hermione "The Norwegians have designated a team to look into the curse, so hopefully they'll been more successful than we have."

"Keep me updated," Kingsley said as he moved to leave the office. "And Harry…"

"Yes sir?"

"It's late. Go home to your family."

Harry nodded and watched as the Minister strolled out of his office. It was nearly 8 pm, and despite Ginny's insistence that Harry not worry about her and focus on the case, he knew he had stayed much later than he should have.

"This job is going to kill me," he mumbled as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

* * *

It was a cold, gloomy morning, and despite her several layers of clothing, Hermione shivered as she made her way to the entrance of St. Mungo's, her eyes watering from a sudden burst of bone-chilling air. Like most days, she had left Harry's house early enough to avoid the prying eyes of the public, but she still cast her eyes nervously down the street as she walked. The last thing she needed today was a run-in with someone eager to uncover the reasons for her and Draco's sudden disappearance from public life.

When she passed the threshold into the waiting room, she exhaled deeply and walked quickly toward the stairway that would lead her to Draco's room, careful to keep her head down until she made it to the guarded hallway on the fourth floor. The Auror on duty, a young witch she recognized from a training class she had taken a few months ago, smiled at Hermione as she passed before continuing her rounds, leaving her alone at the far end of the hall.

Two days earlier, the Healers had informed her and Narcissa that Draco's last few remaining injuries had finally healed. Hermione had allowed herself a brief moment of relief before it was explained that besides continuing to monitor his brain functions there was nothing more they could do for him. Draco was, for all intents and purposes, stuck in a prison that no one could free him from. Despite knowing it was coming, despite having mentally prepared themselves for the inevitable conversation, it was still the news the two women had been dreading, and neither of them took it well.

After the Healers had left the room, they stood there silently, their eyes glazed over, unable to look at each other as the reality of the situation settled in. Hermione had been the first to break the silence, and she didn't even attempt to hide the crack in her voice or wipe away the tears on her cheeks when she told Narcissa that she had finally decided to move onto the Malfoy property. If she couldn't have Draco, if he really wasn't going to wake up, she at least wanted to have a piece of his life, and if that meant moving to his ancestral home, she no longer had any qualms about doing it.

Shaking her head, Hermione pushed open the door in front of her, and dropped her bag on the couch, her eyes falling on Draco's pale features. While her morning sickness had finally dissipated, providing her with some reprieve on the pregnancy front, she had come to realize that remaining cooped up in a hospital room every single day wasn't healthy for her or the baby. At her last checkup, the Healer had suggested that she reduce the frequency and duration of her visits, and although she hated the idea of leaving Draco alone at the hospital, she knew long term that her daily routine wasn't sustainable.

 _He wouldn't want you to waste your life away_ , she tried to tell herself.

Hermione walked over to the side of Draco's bed and sighed, wishing she could ease the ever-present aching in her heart. But she couldn't. It wouldn't go away. Not when he was here; not when he was stuck like this.

Carefully, she pulled herself up onto the bed and curled up next to him, resting her head on his chest so that she could listen to the slow beating of his heart. It wasn't the first time she laid next to him while he was asleep but knowing that tomorrow would be the first time that she didn't spend the day with him made it feel like this time was different, more meaningful somehow.

 _Please, Draco_ , she begged silently, fighting the tears threatening to escape down her cheeks. Y _ou have to come back to us._

"Granger," a voice croaked from somewhere above her head, "I don't think this bed was made for two people."

Hermione jumped, nearly falling off the side of the bed, and turned her head toward the voice, her gaze falling on the most perfect pair of piercing grey eyes.

"Draco!" she cried, her voice ringing across the room as she threw her body over his. "You're awake! I thought you– I didn't know if you would ever wake up."

"How many times do I have to tell you that you can't get rid of me that easily?" Draco said quietly, flinching as Hermione's arms tightened around his aching body.

The sweet scent of vanilla invaded his senses as she hugged him, and he silently decided he could ignore any amount of pain if it meant having her this close to him. It didn't even bother him that he couldn't feel his legs; she was there, and that was all that mattered.

When Hermione sat back up, he could see a steady stream of tears falling down her face, and he felt his stomach twist into knots.

 _Don't be sad_ , he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words.

Ignoring the sharp pain in his bones, he lifted a hand to wipe away her tears, his fingers tingling as they grazed the side of her face.

"I've been so worried," Hermione managed after a few moments, her breathing heavy and uneven.

Draco's hand cupped her wet cheek while his thumb moved softly across her skin. He wanted to kiss her, but he didn't have the strength to sit up, so he moved his fingers over her lips instead. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into his touch, placing her hand over his, before turning her head to kiss the palm of his hand, her lips eliciting a shiver down his spine.

"What happened?" he asked, unsure if he really wanted the answer.

The last thing he remembered was waking up chained to a wall and after that... well after that, everything was a bit blurry.

Hermione opened her eyes, a flicker of fear crossing them before she spoke.

"Rodolphus attacked you," she began, pausing to take a few deep breaths. "He tortured you and nearly killed you. You've been in a coma–"

"How long?" Draco asked, interrupting her explanation, his voice low and uneasy. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Two months," Hermione responded, her hands dropping nervously to her lap.

_Fuck._

"Two months?" he repeated in disbelief.

"Your injuries– they were horrific," Hermione explained, her eyes stinging. "No one knows how you survived. We weren't sure if you'd ever wake up."

"I don't understand," Draco said, still struggling to remember what had happened.

"When you didn't make it back to my flat the day Harry sent you home early from work, I knew something had happened to you," Hermione told him, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her jumper as she spoke. "Harry and Dean searched your place and found a note written to me saying that you were _sorry_ and that you _couldn't do it anymore_ ," she paused, taking another deep breath, her heart beating furiously as she avoided his eyes.

Draco swallowed heavily but let her continue.

"Harry wasn't convinced that you had left willingly. Something about the state of your room," she continued, finally looking at him again. "When he asked me to look at the note again, I realized that the handwriting wasn't yours, and he immediately alerted the Ministry that you were missing."

Hermione paused again as she felt her tears coming back, and Draco reached out to hold her hand.

"There were traces of dark magic in your flat, and after finding your blood on the wall, Kingsley initiated the search for you," she explained, raising her free hand to rub her eyes. "We still didn't know who had attacked you, but Harry and Kingsley were convinced it was Rodolphus, and they were right. We didn't know it then, but Rodolphus had taken you to Lindisfarne."

"Lindisfarne?" Draco asked, his voice raspy.

"Rodolphus was using an old Norse hideout on the island. We still don't understand why or how he was able to access it, but the curse he used on you–" she stopped, biting the inside of her lip nervously. "The curse was Norse too."

"Norse?" Draco repeated, still confused.

"Your drawing was the key to finding Rodolphus all along," she told him, smiling weakly. "The tree you saw in the boy's memory, it was an ash tree. Obviously not a typical ash tree, otherwise someone would have recognized it sooner, but it was an ash tree all the same."

"Fucking hell," he muttered. "Yggdrasil."

Hermione nodded. "I didn't figure that out until the day after you disappeared, but when I did, I was able to identify where Rodolphus had taken you," Hermione told him sadly. "The tree was black because it had been cursed with dark magic – a marker of sorts for those granted passage into the Norse hideout."

The story was obviously painful for her to retell, and Draco squeezed her hand, hoping it was enough to reassure her that it was going to be okay.

"I–" Hermione began, unsure of how to explain what happened next. "I still don't know exactly how I found it. It seemed to–" she paused, shaking her head at the memory "It seemed to call to me, like it was sending off a signal that I managed to hone in on."

She smiled weakly at Draco as she took in another shaky breath.

"I felt your presence when I passed through the tree, and then I– I felt it disappear," she continued, tears falling feely down her cheeks again. "Rodolphus attacked me before I could get to you, but I eventually managed to overcome him. I lost control when I found you chained up and bloody in the basement. You were–" she choked, still unable to handle the memory of that night. "I thought I was too late. I thought you were gone."

Draco's jaw was clenched. His brain was foggy, as if whatever had happened to him that day had been buried away the deepest cavern of his brain with little hope of escape, but it was clear from Hermione's demeanor that his survival was nothing short of a miracle.

"I don't know what happened after I found you, but when Harry and Dean pulled you out, they realized you were still alive and brought you here," she finished, her hand tingling as Draco rubbed his thumb softly over the top of her hand.

"I thought I heard you talking to me," Draco told her, unsure if the memory was real or not.

"It was me," Hermione responded, shocked that he remembered. "I don't know how I did it, but I must have accidentally cast a long-range Legilimency to find you. I didn't even know that was possible."

Before, Draco would have probably agreed with her, but now – now he would believe anything. The voice had been her talking to him, telling him that she loved him, and it was probably the only reason that he was still alive.

The two of them stared at each other for a few minutes, neither wanting to continue talking about what happened that night. It was too terrible.

And it was Hermione who broke the silence. "Draco, I'm pregnant," she announced.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise.

"Pregnant," he repeated quietly. "How– how long have you known?" he mumbled, his eyes falling to the hand she had placed low on her stomach.

"I found out a couple of weeks before you disappeared," Hermione explained, averting her eyes from his gaze. "I didn't know how to tell you, and then you were gone, and I couldn't tell you." Hermione choked back a sob. "At first, when you disappeared, I thought maybe you found out and ran away."

"Hermione," Draco said as he lifted a hand to her face.

"I was terrified," Hermione admitted sadly. "I didn't think you'd want a child. I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you."

"Hermione, I love you," Draco said softly as tears filled his eyes. "I could never leave you. I could never leave our child."

"You love me?" she asked timidly, her own tears cascading down her face onto the blanket over his chest.

"Of course, I do. How could I not?" he told her. _And I'm an idiot for not telling her sooner._

"Draco, I love you so much," Hermione declared, not even bothering to wipe the tears away from her face. "I thought I would never get to tell you."

"Hermione, I would like to kiss you but seeing as I can't lift–"

Before Draco could finish his sentence, Hermione dropped her head and pressed their lips together. She brought her hands to the side of his face while Draco, still ignoring the pain in his limbs, tangled his fingers in her curls, his senses going haywire as he held her close to him.

When they finally pulled away from each other, she rested her forehead against his and placed her hand over his heart.

"Don't you ever fucking scare me like that ever again," she told him, smiling softly.

"Language, Granger," Draco admonished, returning her smile with one of his own before brushing away the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs.

A loud crash suddenly filled the room, and Hermione sat upright, her cheeks red with embarrassment. She and Draco turned their heads toward the source of the noise and found Narcissa trembling near the door, a pile of things strewn about the floor near her high heeled feet.

"Draco? How– when did he–?" Narcissa muttered. She was looking wildly between Hermione and Draco as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, her eyes glassy with tears. After overcoming her initial shock, she quickly walked over to the bed and grabbed ahold of one of Draco's hands.

Hermione hid a smirk as she watched Draco stare awkwardly at his mother.

"Mother?" Draco's eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked back up Hermione. Sure, he knew Narcissa loved him, and sure, it did make some sort of sense that she was here, but what he didn't quite understand was why she was in the hospital at the time as Hermione.

"My goodness, I'm quite a mess," Narcissa said as she wiped the tears from her face. "Hermione and I have been beside ourselves with worry."

Draco turned to look at Hermione, his mouth parted in disbelief.

"You two have been here together?" Draco asked. Apparently, a lot had happened while he was asleep.

Hermione and Narcissa both laughed.

"Darling, why is that so surprising?" Narcissa asked.

"Yes darling, do tell," Hermione said sniggering.

Draco looked between the two witches on either side of him and sighed. The sight of them together was one thing, but the sight of them together and getting along was more than he could handle.

"This is just… strange," he mumbled.

"Well, sorry to make it even stranger," Hermione told him, "but she knows about the baby."

"And I am delighted!" Narcissa said, clapping her hands together and resting them below her chin. "You know how long I've wanted to be a grandmother."

"So, let me get this straight," Draco began, still flabbergasted. "While I've been unconscious the last two months, you two have been interacting? Amicably?"

"She's a wonderful witch, Draco," Narcissa replied quickly, smiling warmly at the witch across from her.

"I know that, mother," he replied. "What surprises me is that you have accepted that as well."

"Oh Draco. As soon as I realized how much she cared for you, there was no reason to be hostile," Narcissa retorted, waving her hand in the air.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh, and there's another thing you're probably not going to like," Hermione whispered into his ear as she bent down to place a kiss on his cheek. "I moved into the garden house at Malfoy Manor."

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Draco grumbled. "I just woke up and you're already trying to kill me."

"You've survived worse," she supplied, rather unhelpfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a day early, but in order to avoid this chapter turning into a novel in itself (I couldn't stop adding things), I decided to just get it out there.
> 
> Also, I've left a certain couple of characters out of this chapter because I wanted to focus on Hermione. I promise, you will see them again soon – and by soon, I mean next week.
> 
> And finally, it still boggles my mind that so many of you are enjoying this. When I first started posting, I thought I'd be lucky if 50 people read it, so thank you to everyone who has reviewed/liked/shared/etc. Shoutout to everyone screaming at their screens mid chapter last week and especially to HarryPGinnyW4eva (ffnet) and CarrieMaxwell (AO3) for all of the wonderful chapter by chapter reactions.


	20. A Bit of Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs – Turn on Me by The National, twice as tough by upsidedownhead (feat. Mansionair), and Forever by Labrinth

Misty cowered as another glass shattered against the wall behind her.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE IS?!" the man bellowed, his eyes filled with rage.

"No one has seen her since Rodolphus was captured," Misty told him, her voice shaking as she kept her eyes on the ground. "I've exhausted every contact that I have in the Ministry. If anyone knows where she is, they're not talking."

"Exhausted?" the man repeated angrily, glowering at her as he spoke. "What do you know about exhausted?"

Misty began to tremble. She thought she had seen the peak of his anger when the Ministry announced that Rodolphus had been caught, forcing the Aescling to expend valuable energy to keep the idiot from giving them up, and so she hadn't been quite prepared for his maniacal reaction to her latest news.

But she knew better, so she should have been.

"You had one job," the man muttered, pulling the cork off the bottle next to him and tossing it across the room. He paused, bringing the bottle to his lips to swallow half of its contents before glaring at her again. "One. Fucking. Job." Each word rolled off his tongue like an individual threat, as if they each held a haunting power of their own.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

If she had been braver, she might have told him 'I told you so.' She might have, if she wasn't so scared that he would get rid of her like he did the last one, told him that he should have let her take care of things when she had the chance. But she didn't. She could see the murderous look in his eyes, and she knew if she was going to make it through the night – hell, if she was going to make it through the next few minutes – she was going to have to take whatever punishment he threw at her without complaint. Whether she really deserved it or not.

The man grunted and took another swig from his bottle, his eyes still watching her from his position at the table. "I know what you're thinking," he taunted, wiping the side of his mouth with his sleeve.

"I don't know what you mean," she dared, trying to ignore the signs that her body was giving her to turn and run.

"If you had kept tabs on all of them like I had requested, none of this would have happened," the man spat, slamming the bottle harshly on the table.

Misty bowed her head in resignation. It didn't matter that he specifically hadn't asked her to follow any of them. It didn't matter that it was Rodolphus who had gone off his rocker before finishing the job. It was still her responsibility to know what he needed, and to do it without asking – it's what she had been raised to do – and in that regard, she knew that she had truly and utterly failed.

 _We all did eventually_.

If she had learned anything in her short life, it was this: there was no running from fate – at least not while he was still in control of hers.

She kept her head down, only risking a quick glance at the man from under her lashes. And what she saw wasn't all that surprising. He was still glaring at her, his chest heaving in tune with what she could only assume were his agitated heartbeat as his fingers taped impatiently on the table in front of him. To anyone else, the image might have proved too much to handle, but for her, it was almost a relief to know what was coming next.

"What a pity," the man said finally, pausing only long enough to pick up his wand. "I think you need a little reminder what I do to people who fail."

"It won't happen again, I promise," she whispered despite knowing that it would never be enough.

"No," he said indignantly, the ire in his voice chilling her to the bone, "it won't."

She didn't feel anything at first – she always knew that she wouldn't – but then she was screaming, and the last coherent thought she had was wishing she could have found a way to end things in the same way that the one who had started this all had done for herself.

* * *

"Potter," Draco growled, his legs shaking underneath him. "If you keep moving that wheelchair away from me, you're going to get an eye full of something that I know you don't want to see when I topple face-first onto the floor," he warned, referring to the fact that the nurses still refused to let him change out of the ridiculously unflattering hospital gown.

Harry rolled his eyes and moved slightly farther down the hallway, wheelchair in tow. "Oh stop your whining, Malfoy," he rebuked. "No one likes a quitter."

Despite his objections, Draco took another step, grimacing as he felt the bones in his knees grinding together uncomfortably. "I can barely feel my legs," he admitted, his voice heavy and tired. "Just let me sit down for five minutes."

Harry, who was still a few paces away from Draco, eyed his friend suspiciously. When he had showed up to the hospital earlier that morning, he found Draco agitated and on the verge of an outburst as one of his nurses tried to encourage him down the hallway. And honestly, he wasn't sure he could blame him. It had to be frustrating only being able to walk a few steps before requiring some sort of assistance, and knowing it was only a matter of time before Draco lost it completely, he had decided it was better for a friend – someone who wouldn't be offended when they were yelled at – to help him get through the afternoon. _I can take over_ , he had told the nurse, smiling weakly in apology. The woman had simply nodded and rushed away, no doubt happy for the reprieve, leaving Harry with the near impossible task of getting Draco to continue his grumpy walk down the hallway.

"Fine," Harry relented, pushing the wheelchair back over to his friend. "But I'm not pushing you back to your room."

"You'll be sorry you said that when the Healers tell you that I'm permanently damaged," Draco quipped, wincing as he fell down into the chair.

The pain in his legs was debilitating, and while he would have preferred to pretend that it didn't exist, that he wasn't still crippled, there was only so much he could do to hide his frustration. And really, it might not have bothered him as much if his damn father hadn't tried to gift him a cane earlier that morning.

" _Is this a joke?" Draco said, turning the perfectly polished snake head over in his hand._

" _What on earth makes you think that?" Lucius replied seriously._

" _I'm not using this," Draco told him, holding out the cane for his father to take back._

_Lucius rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be so dramatic," he said, exasperated._

" _This thing is dramatic," Draco retorted, lifting the absurd gift farther up in the air. "That's precisely the point."_

" _You can't possibly tell me that you'd rather continue using that horrid contraption," Lucius snapped, his eyes falling on the metal walker in the corner of the room._

" _That's exactly what I'm telling you," Draco affirmed stubbornly._

_With a sigh of annoyance, Lucius finally snatched the cane out of his son's hand and placed it next to the bed._

" _Miss Granger seemed to think you'd appreciate the thought," the older Malfoy noted, somewhat hurt by his son's rather blatant rejection._

_Draco threw his head back and groaned before grabbing the gaudy stick and using it to stand up out of his chair._

" _Happy?" he asked, resisting the urge to swear under his breath._

_Lucius smiled proudly. "Very much so."_

No, the cane definitely didn't help improve his mood.

"For fuck's sake," Draco breathed, suddenly glad that he had hid the damn thing under his bed before Harry had shown up. "I feel like I've aged 100 years."

"It'll get better," Harry tried to assure him. "Two weeks ago, you couldn't even get yourself out of bed."

"Thanks for the reminder," Draco snorted, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "As if I'd ever forget you having to help me to the loo."

Harry laughed. "And I'll forever cherish that memory."

Draco had made an impressive amount of improvement since waking up, especially considering what had been done to him, but he was getting restless cooped up in the hospital. He wanted to be free to do whatever he pleased. He wanted to breathe some fresh air. He wanted, for once in the last few miserable weeks, to be allowed to sleep in the same bed as the woman that he loved.

"Can't you – I don't know – pull some Chosen One strings and finally get me the hell out of here?" Draco asked seriously.

"It took Kingsley weeks to prefect the protection shield around this ward. And you know as well as I do that he would murder me in the middle of this hospital if he found out I helped you escape before the Healers gave the okay," Harry replied, shaking his head. "Plus, I'm not overly fond of what Hermione would do to me if I snuck you out either."

"Coward," Draco muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Harry chided.

As much as he didn't want to admit that Harry was right, Draco knew that he was lucky to have been able to continue treatment at St Mungo's at all. Kingsley had designed a state-of-the-art shield to confuse anyone that wasn't explicitly granted access to see him, which meant that even the other people working and staying on the same floor as him couldn't get within 100 visual yards of him. Not even the Prophet, which had an irritating habit of finding things out that they shouldn't, had been able to figure out where he was. And if he hadn't been the one the shield had been designed to protect, he would have marveled at the level artistry it took to create, but weeks of only being able to see the same ten people was starting to get old.

"Oi, Potter," came a voice from the other end of the hall. "Aren't you supposed to be walking him?"

The two men looked up to see Theo strolling down the hallway, his perfectly pressed robes flying behind him as he sauntered quickly toward them.

"I am not a dog, Theodore," Draco growled, ignoring the smirk on Theo's face as he came to a stop next to Harry.

"Pity," Theo replied. "I think I'd prefer you that way," he added, reaching over to pat Draco on top of the head.

Draco, whose arms were working just fine, aimed a punch between Theo's legs, but missed his intended target when he jumped nimbly out of the way.

"Manners, Malfoy," Theo admonished, shaking his finger wildly in front of his friend's face. "Your mother would be so disappointed."

Draco shook his head in annoyance but couldn't keep himself from laughing. "Don't worry," he said after composing himself. "She already is. Got my muggle-born girlfriend pregnant before marriage, remember?"

Theo snorted. "Oh, please," he replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Narcissa and Hermione are practically inseparable these days. The way the two of them whisper to each other, you'd think they were plotting to take over the world."

"For all we know, they might be," Harry added quite seriously.

Draco groaned. "And on that depressing note," he began, using his arms to push his body up out of the wheelchair. "I'm going to pathetically shuffle my way back to my room."

His movements were slow and unsteady, but even Draco had to admit it was a minor miracle that he was walking around, let alone awake, and he knew he really shouldn't be complaining. The damage from the curse should have killed him – or so he had been told – and so when he had woken up without any feeling in his legs, it hadn't even bothered him. All that mattered was that he was alive, and that Hermione was right there next to him.

"I have to say," Theo began, turning to walk backwards next to Draco, "this hospital gown really doesn't do anything for your skin tone."

"It certainly doesn't do anything for your arse," Harry piled on, chuckling as he pushed the empty wheelchair behind them.

"For fuck's sake," Draco mumbled to himself, throwing his head back as their laughter rang out across the hallway. "I need new friends."

* * *

Hermione's hand tightened around Draco's as Harry relayed the news.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Harry confirmed sadly.

"Nothing at all?" Draco asked again, unsure if he could really believe the words coming out of Harry's mouth.

"Yes. Nothing," Harry repeated.

"Nothing," Draco whispered, the fingers of his free hand tapping mindlessly on top of his thigh.

"Yes," Harry said again. "Am I not speaking clearly?" he asked, turning to Theo who had been busy staring at his fingernails from the corner of the room.

"I think he's in shock," Theo suggested, noting the blank expression on Draco's face as he struggled to digest the news. "N. O. T. H. - " he began loudly.

"I can spell, thank you," Draco interrupted, waving a hand in the air. "How the hell does the Norwegian Ministry know nothing about the damn curse?"

"Maybe they lost the book," Theo offered, shrugging. "What?" he said when he caught Hermione glaring at him.

"You," Draco began, pointing a finger at Theo, "are not helping."

"Apparently, Norse mages were careful about what they recorded. Not a single one of their texts contains anything specific about the kind of magic they used, let alone a detailed explanation of the Meiða curse. Their Aurors are as stumped as we are," Harry interjected, hoping to keep things calm. Draco, it seemed, was in another one of his moods, and the last thing he needed was a repeat of two days ago when he had gotten angry with the nurse for making him do another lap down the hall.

"But they did send us some notes and other things that might be helpful to look through," Hermione said, smiling softly at Draco from her position next to him.

"If they were really all that bloody helpful, then we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?" Draco growled, his irritation bubbling over.

Hermione sighed. Draco had become increasingly irritated in the past few days, taking it out on anyone that gave him any sort of bad news, but she knew that his frustration was coming from a good place. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe, and his anger was simply a reaction to having no idea how to do that, especially in his current state.

"I'm sorry," Draco said suddenly, his face softening when he saw Hermione biting at the inside of her cheek, "I just don't like sitting around waiting for someone to attack. I can't– you're too..." He swallowed heavily, unable to finish his thought.

"I know," Hermione told him, moving a hand to the side of his face, her thumb tracing across his lips.

A shiver traveled down Draco's spine, and if it weren't for his damn legs, which still weren't capable of supporting his weight for much longer than a couple minutes, and the damn wheelchair he was currently stuck in after a draining morning of physical therapy, he would have stood up and pulled her against him. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

"It's like we're not even in the room," Harry grumbled, glancing over at Theo in a moment of solidarity.

"When you two are done imagining what you're going to do to each other when his pecker is finally working again," Theo said, rolling his eyes dramatically, "I think Potter has some things he'd like to share with the class."

Hermione blushed and pulled her hand away.

"My _pecker_ is functioning better than yours, I imagine," Draco quipped, smiling as the images of Hermione's mouth around his cock the day before flashed behind his eyes. Hermione, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines, tried to muffle her sniggers with her mouth.

"Merlin, can the two of you at least try to behave when other people are around," Harry said, looking back and forth between the couple.

"You're the one who keeps showing up when she's here," Draco retorted, giving Hermione a quick wink. "But please, continue explaining how you've learned absolutely nothing over the past few weeks."

"Right," Harry said, pushing his glasses back up his nose, doing his best to ignore the inappropriate smirk that was still plastered on Draco's face. "Er– well, Kingsley has decided that it's best if we move you from the hospital," he blurted out, much less eloquently than he had intended. "The shield has been working so far, but it's really only a matter of time before someone, accidentally or not, lets it slip that you're here."

"Something tells me I'm not going to like you say next," Draco mumbled, catching the nervous twitch at the corner of Harry's mouth.

Harry smiled apologetically. "Kingsley is sending you to the Manor."

"Of fucking course he is," Draco sighed. "And let me guess, I'm not allowed to leave?"

Harry nodded. "I know you'd rather stay anywhere else–"

"Obviously," Draco said loudly.

"–but Hermione is already settled there. Plus, the wards on that place are scary good."

Draco had known for a while that a move back to the Manor was inevitable after his ordeal, especially after Kingsley informed him that he had been reinforcing his family's wards with a shield similar to the one at the hospital, but deep down, he had been hoping that there would still be some way to wiggle his way out of it.

"You almost sound impressed, Potter," Draco managed after taking a few calming breaths. He paused, casting his eyes back toward Hermione who was busy trying to avoid his eyes while biting nervously at her lip. _For fuck's sake_ , he thought. _She's going to be the actual death of me._ "The things I do for love," he sighed, turning back to Harry. "Fine. I'll go willingly. But only for her."

"And?" Harry asked, grinning. He had expected shouting – lots of shouting – but it was so much more fun to watch Draco squirm uncomfortably in his wheelchair instead.

Draco exhaled loudly, making his displeasure with the entire situation blatantly clear. "I promise to be a good boy and keep both feet within bounds at all times."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Harry teased, crossing his arms across his chest.

Theo, who had somehow managed to maneuver his way behind Draco without him noticing, patted him roughly on the head. "Good boy," he said before leaping quickly out of his friend's reach.

Harry, Theo, and Hermione began laughing hysterically.

"I hate all of you," Draco muttered, wheeling himself over to the door.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, her hands still clutching her stomach as the last of her giggles died off.

"This dog is going to try to walk himself," he said, pushing himself out of the wheelchair and shuffling out into the hallway.

"I'll go," Theo offered, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Someone has to make sure he doesn't verbally abuse the staff."

When they were alone, Harry moved onto the bed next to Hermione and grabbed her hand. "How are things – you know, besides his general annoyance with everyone who isn't you?" he asked.

"He's still scared," Hermione replied quietly, her smile quickly fading. "He tries to hide it, but I know he's struggling with all of this."

Harry sighed heavily. "Is he still having nightmares?"

Hermione nodded. "He doesn't sleep much."

And honestly, if it weren't for the amount of energy that she was spending growing another human being, she wouldn't have been sleeping much either.

"Maybe getting out of the hospital will be good for him," Harry offered hopefully. "It'll certainly be safer to have him behind the wards at the Manor with you."

"It's not him they want, Harry," Hermione said, her voice shaking slightly.

_Whoever sent Rodolphus, never wanted him. They wanted me._

"It'll be safer to have you both at the Manor," Harry corrected, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

"Once Draco's there, I'll have no reason to leave anymore," she assured him, smiling weakly.

After Draco informed everyone about the threat against Hermione, leaving the Manor, which already had been quite the to-do, had become even more difficult and time consuming. Not only could she not leave without a small army of undercover Aurors surrounding her, but she also couldn't walk out of the front door without being fully disguised as some distant (and very blonde) Malfoy relative.

"Harry," Hermione said after a few moments, her hands resting over her womb. "If something happens to me–"

"Stop," he told her. "Don't do that."

Hermione looked up at her friend with tears in her eyes. "We're no closer to figuring out why someone is after me than we were before. We need to be prepared for the chance that they might actually succeed."

"You will be safe at the Manor," Harry asserted, his green eyes studying her. "Even Kingsley couldn't find a way past those wards."

"Do you honestly think whoever taught Rodolphus the curse doesn't know how to get past some ancient blood wards?" Hermione asked. But she didn't wait for an answer; they both knew what it was. "I know you want to think I'll be safe somewhere, but I think we both know that this magic is stronger than anything we've encountered before. If they figure out where I am, I don't think a few wards will be enough."

"I'm not just going to give up," Harry said, his voice low. _You're too important._

"I know," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

They sat there quietly for a few moments, neither sure what else to say. The past few weeks had been hard on everyone, and they all had been living in perpetual fear that something bad was waiting around every corner. Despite the precautions that had be implemented to conceal her identity each time she stepped off the Manor property, Harry, Theo, and Dean still took turns escorting Hermione to the hospital each day, each of them, like herself, disguised to hide who they really were. Even when she was at the Manor, Narcissa rarely left Hermione alone, and even Lucius, who had mostly resorted to his old moody ways after she had moved into the garden home, set to work adding extra layers of wards around the property. And if that wasn't enough, Kingsley, the Minister of fucking Magic who was undoubtedly the busiest wizard in all of Britain, had decided to take shifts standing guard outside of Malfoy Manor. Everyone was on edge, but no one knew what to do or what to expect next.

Hermione wasn't blind to the risks people were taking to protect her. She knew that if someone came for her, people would likely get hurt, and every time she thought about it, her stomach would twist uncomfortably. Most days, the only thing that kept her from doing something foolish was knowing that Draco needed her and that their unborn child needed her even more.

Hermione leaned her head against Harry's shoulder and exhaled deeply. "Do you think our lives will ever be normal?" she asked despite already knowing the answer.

"I think we left normal behind the moment we set foot in Hogwarts," he said, chuckling softly.

And Hermione couldn't agree more.

* * *

Draco couldn't stop staring at her. He certainly couldn't keep his hands off of her, and he definitely didn't try very hard. His recovery had been slow – frustratingly slow – but now that he was a little better, now that he could walk down the block relying on nothing but his own two feet, there was nothing that could keep him away from her. Not even their current living situation, which thanks to the Minister (and his mother, no doubt) meant he was back in his ancestral home, could dampen his mood. He was with her. He was going to be a father. And he was never, ever going to complain about anything ever again.

Probably.

Well, at least for right now.

It was the middle of the night after another tiring day of rehab and getting the Manor's ridiculously large garden home ready for a baby, but Draco couldn't sleep, his thoughts inevitably drifting to the day he wanted so desperately to forget. The frequency of his nightmares still hadn't eased, and while the Healers had prescribed him some potions to try, he was hesitant to take any of them. He knew what they could do to a person, and he'd rather deal with the terror than risk becoming dependent on them.

Most days, he dealt with his anxiety by doing anything he could to avoid the memory of what had happened to him. But avoidance only worked for so long, and some nights, like this one, he wished he had never gotten his memory back, that he had never remembered the day Rodolphus tortured him so that he could just get some goddamn rest. It would have been so much easier to live his life unsure exactly what had happened to him, so much easier to just close his eyes and sleep, but alas he did, and he wasn't sure when he would ever feel entirely safe again.

 _If you hadn't remembered, you would have never known that she was in danger_ , he reminded himself as he glanced over at the woman snoring away at the other side of the bed.

Reaching his arm across the comically large bed that Hermione had let his mother buy for them, he gently pulled Hermione's sleeping body close to him, hoping that holding her in his arms would provide him with some relief.

And like always, it did. He pressed himself against her, her bum perfectly positioned against his groin, and he nearly whimpered at the closeness of their bodies, burying his nose against her neck to keep himself quiet.

He sucked in a breath when she fidgeted slightly in his arms, worried that he had woken her up, and relaxing only when her breathing became heavy and even again. _She would probably sleep through a dragon falling through the ceiling_ , he thought, moving a hand to rest on her swollen belly, his fingers tracing small circles around her navel as he smiled to himself.

Learning that he was going to be a father had been, to say the least, shocking, but he was excited, and he couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else. Hermione was an incredible witch, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that their child, even with only half her genes, was going to be a force to be reckoned with. Just thinking about it made him want to…

 _Salazar, pull yourself together_.

He already could feel himself hardening against her, his body unwilling to listen to his brain, and if she hadn't just let out a low moan – oh, gods that moan – he would have pulled away from her to let her continue to sleep in peace. But it was too late; she was stirring in his arms, and he definitely was not going to waste her time awake.

"Do you want to talk to him?" Hermione asked, her voice still groggy with sleep as she rolled onto her back.

 _Fuck him and his dangerously delectable cock_ , she thought, licking her lips as she opened her eyes to look at him. She felt Draco's hand come to a rest possessively on top of her womb, but even as turned on as she was, even as much as she wanted to jump on top of him right then and there, she decided to play coy.

Just for a little.

"Him?" Draco breathed, moving his hands lower. "Since when is our baby a he?"

 _Fucking, Theo_ , Hermione groaned inwardly, putting a hand on her forehead. "You know what I mean," she said, watching as Draco's fingers began to tease small circles across her sensitive skin at the top of her thighs.

"Don't listen to her, princess," Draco whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on Hermione's stomach. "Your mum doesn't know what she's talking about."

"For fuck's sake," she mumbled, tossing her head back against the pillow dramatically.

"Language, Granger," Draco chided quietly. "With that mouth of yours, we'll be lucky if our kid doesn't come out already knowing every swear word in the dictionary," he added, turning to look up at her with an all too familiar mischievous look on his face.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Draco was already moving his hands in between her thighs, tracing his fingers softly along the outside of her knickers, and she didn't dare interrupt him when he got started. In fact, there was no way that he could possibly want this more than she did.

_Fucking pregnancy hormones._

She gasped as Draco quickly divested her of her shirt, his fingers tracing a soft line back down her body.

"I don't understand–"

Her words were lost when his fingers pushed the fabric of her knickers aside and dipped into her wet folds.

"Yes?" Draco prompted, enjoying the jerk of her hips when he moved a finger over her clit.

"I don't understand," Hermione began again, her voice barely above a whisper as she attempted and failed to lift her head all the way off the pillow behind her, "why you're still attracted to me when I look like this."

Draco cast his eyes upward, his eyes confused. "Are you kidding me?" he said, continuing to tease her with his fingers as he stared up at her with disbelief. "You're beautiful."

"I am not," she managed, breathing heavily now.

"Yes," he said, pausing to kiss her stomach again, "you are."

Hermione couldn't respond. If she opened her mouth, she knew the only sound that would come out would be another moan, and even though she wanted more – oh so much more – she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his sinful ministrations were affecting her. At least, just not quite yet.

"You're carrying our child," Draco continued, seemingly unperturbed by her silence. "And that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

"Draco," Hermione breathed, unable to contain her arousal anymore as one of his fingers slid slowly inside of her. _Fuck it._ "Just get inside me."

Draco smiled. "Whatever you want, my love," he replied, sitting back on his haunches so that he could peel off her knickers. "So, bossy," he murmured as he repositioned himself behind her on the bed.

He was already naked, and she could feel his hardened length resting between her legs as he began to move his body against her suggestively.

"Draco," she said again, wrapping an arm around his neck and turning her head to face him.

"Mmm?"

"Shut up and just–"

He entered her slowly, wanting to relish every single sensation of the movement, but the way she gasped, the way her insides clamped down on him, beckoning him deeper, immediately threatened to send him over the edge.

"Fuck," he hissed, trying to get himself under control.

"Language, Malfoy," Hermione said, barely able to comprehend anything other than the feeling of the man inside of her.

When he was completely sheathed inside of her, Draco began to move slowly, trying to ignore his growing need for release, while his hands played with her sensitive nipples, eliciting a series of high-pitched noises that made his skin tingle with excitement.

Gods she was perfect, and he didn't want her to just hear it; she needed to fucking believe it.

"So. Fucking. Beautiful," he whispered into her ear, smiling softly as she squirmed against him.

The sex hadn't been as rough or fast as it had been their first few months together, but it was still mind-blowing, and he couldn't get enough. Pleasing a pregnant Hermione, the mother of his unborn child, and the woman he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, was more satisfying than anything he'd ever done before. He reached one hand around her body and began rubbing her clit, letting out a satisfied groan when her body shuddered in response.

"Draco, I'm going to–"

He used his free hand to guide her mouth to his own, his tongue parting her lips greedily before clashing it against her own. She didn't need to explain herself, and she certainly didn't need to warn him; the way her body was shaking, the way her eyes had fluttered shut as he called his name was all he needed to know she had reached her peak. And watching her come undone drove him a kind of crazy that he would never be able to explain.

So close to his own release, his thrusts became more erratic, his grasp on her tighter, and then she was shouting his name, his name rolling off her tongue as naturally as the first time they'd fallen into each other's arms, and he didn't stand a chance. He came hard, spilling himself inside of her as his hips jerked against her uncontrollably.

"I love you," she murmured, turning to bury her face against his chest when he finally managed to pull himself out of her.

The words still took his breath away, and he wasn't sure if they ever wouldn't. She held a power over him that he would have considered dangerous under any other circumstance.

"I love you," he told her, burying his hands in her curls. "I'll always love you."

It would never get old, touching her like this, and not even Rodolphus, despite his best intentions, had succeeded in taking that away from him.

"I like Scorpius," Hermione said after a few moments, her mouth dangerously close to Draco's pulse point as she snuggled closer to his body, tossing a leg over one of his own. "If it's a boy."

He chuckled in response, but she was asleep before he could reply, and he had to resist the temptation to kiss her awake again.

"Me too," he muttered, resting his chin against the top of her head. "Me too," he repeated, smiling to himself as his eyes finally closed.

* * *

A shadow moved in the darkness, its outline barely perceptible against the faintly lit, new moon night sky.

Hunting had never been his favorite activity, but then again, no one was quite as gifted at it as he was, and so here he was, sneaking around in the dark and doing to work that should have never been his to begin with. Despite his frustrations, deep down he knew that he only had himself to blame. He had never been able to rely on anyone but himself, and so hoping that anyone, even those raised to be at his beck and call, were competent enough to do what he required was his own grievous mistake. And it would have been is undoing, if he hadn't decided to pay one of his inept recruits a visit.

Traveling to the prison had been risky, yes, but if he hadn't, if he had decided to play it safe, wasting precious time poking around elsewhere for answers, he would have never overheard that the blonde had actually survived. More importantly, he would have never pieced together where the blasted girl had been hiding.

 _Love_ , the man had grumbled out loud after using the power from his euphoria to wipe every single memory of him from the prisoner's mind. _Makes everyone so damn predictable._

He had been canvassing the area for the past week, cautiously probing the overly sensitive wards without setting off any alarms. It had been a century or two since he'd seen any quite as complicated as the ones surrounding the girl, but he'd never been one to shy away from a challenge. He certainly wasn't the least bit concerned about getting through them.

The hard part was done. He had found her. He knew what he had to do to get her. And now all he needed was a little bit of time.

She was the last piece of the puzzle – his puzzle – and no one, not even the ever meddlesome Albus Dumbledore, who – praise the gods both old and relatively new – was long since dead, was going to Hail Mary their way into this happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek – I hate to leave you on this somewhat of a cliffy, but then again, I'm not really all that sorry.
> 
> In other news: It's another early posting, so I guess I've just gone and thrown my posting schedule right out the window. I can promise that I will continue to post at least once a week – the exact day(s) will just be a surprise for everyone (myself included).
> 
> And of course, I have to give a few more shoutouts to some dedicated reviewers – karma_cookie (AO3), who keeps pointing out important things faster than I can get to them in the story (and even some things that I haven't thought too much about), and Ninjettey (ffnet), who's been commenting since the beginning. But really, all of you are wonderful, so thank you for reading!


	21. What Took You So Long?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs – Rosyln by Bon Iver and St. Vincent, Dreamland by Glass Animals, and All of Me by John Legend

Draco watched as Hermione wandered around the edge of the lake, her hands resting on the top of her swollen stomach. There was a chill to the air, and steam was rising from the surface of the water, enveloping her in an almost eerie haze, but there was also something incredibly beautiful in how her skin glowed in contrast to her dreary surroundings. He smiled as he looked on, perfectly content to stand back and let her explore without his persistent limp slowing her down. Out of every spot he had shown her on the Manor property, this one had been her favorite, and every single morning she insisted, rain or shine, that they venture out here.

He savored these moments when things were almost normal, when he would forget, just for a moment, that she was in danger. But they weren't, and she was. And he wished, more than he had every wised for anything in his entire life, that he could promise her that everything would be alright.

 _I can't lose her_ , he thought, returning the smile she gave him as she glanced over her shoulder. _I can't lose either of them._

In contrast to when he had first come home, the pain in his bones had been reduced to a much more manageable ache, one that seemed to only nag him when his body was a bit too still in the cold, but it had been quickly replaced with a pain in his heart that he knew wouldn't going to go away until he could ensure she was safe. Most days, he walked around fighting a tightness in his chest, trying to keep her from seeing just how scared he was. Because if she knew, if she ever saw what the panic was really doing to him, she would have stopped being able to sleep through the night.

Even his father, who held a general disregard for people who wasted precious time worrying, had been walking around the Manor as if he was the newly crowned lord of melancholy, whipping his wand out at the smallest of sounds. His acceptance of Hermione had been yet another surprise for Draco when he had woken up, but his sudden bout of protectiveness over her was perhaps the biggest bombshell of all. To Draco's knowledge, only one other woman had ever succeeded in penetrating his father's icy armor as effortlessly as Hermione, and that had been his own mother.

It didn't help his nerves that the relative calm of the past few weeks had come to abrupt halt three days ago when Harry had discovered that Rodolphus' memories had been tampered with. It was almost implausible that someone had managed to get into Azkaban without being detected, but then again, they all knew they were dealing with something that was far bigger than one Death Eater seeking revenge. The proverbial shoe, it seemed, had finally begun its long-expected drop.

Draco couldn't think of a time when he'd been more on edge. It was difficult enough trying to keep Hermione calm, especially after Harry's discovery, but he was still struggling to stay afloat in the rapids of his own emotions, and not even Kingsley's order to the double the security team protecting the Manor was enough to pull him away from the mental cliff he was on. He needed answers, he needed to know what the hell was going one, because not knowing was the only kind of torture that he wasn't sure he could survive.

"Motherhood suits her," a soft voice announced beside him, momentarily dragging him away from his worries.

Draco turned to find his mother facing the lake, watching as Hermione continued her stroll along the water.

"It does," he agreed, his fingers moving over the silver serpent head at the top of his cane.

He he had reluctantly, despite trying for weeks to prove his father wrong, conceded that carrying the gaudy thing around was better than using the geriatric monstrosity the hospital had sent him home with to manage the limp that annoyingly still plagued him. And sure, he could have transfigured it into something else or purchased one of his own, but each time he thought about it, he couldn't let the blasted thing go.

"A letter just arrived," Narcissa said after a moment, tearing her eyes away from the lake to study her son, "from Harry."

"Mm?" Draco inquired somewhat absently; his attention already returned to the witch wrapped in one of his old jumpers near the water.

"He says that he'd be happy to do it," she told him.

"Good," he muttered quietly, his face not giving much away.

"This came with it," Narcissa continued, holding out a small package.

Draco's eyes traveled to the object in his mother's hand. "Portkey," he explained, smiling weakly. "Keep it," he told her. "If anything happens, if anyone breaches the wards, I need you to take her–" he gestured at Hermione "–and run."

Narcissa nodded quietly before dropping the object in her pocket. "Do I know where it leads?" she asked curiously, acutely aware that her son had stiffened uncomfortably next to her.

"I'm not sure," Draco replied quickly, already having decided it was safer for everyone if fewer people knew the actual details. "But you'll know what to do when you get there."

The Manor, while the most spectacular of the bunch, wasn't the only piece of property that the Malfoy's owned; it certainly wasn't the most covert. And while Lucius had never disclosed the locations of everything in his ledger, for rather obvious and often legal reasons, Narcissa didn't need to ask if the one attached to the portkey was traceable or not. There would be no record of it even existing.

Unfortunately, Narcissa knew that didn't mean it couldn't be found eventually.

"Wouldn't it be safer to take her there now?" she asked, pulling her wool shawl tighter around her body as she shivered slightly in the brisk morning air.

Draco frowned, a flicker of something that looked like indecision crossing his eyes before he answered. "I did consider it," he admitted finally, pausing to take a deep breath, "but I'm afraid it would only prolong the inevitable." There was a hint of anger and worry in his voice, as if he wished what he was saying wasn't true.

"You want to wait until you can provide a distraction to give her a chance at a clean escape," Narcissa guessed, her heart dropping as she realized what that meant for her son.

"Yes," he replied simply. "I may not be able to win the fight, but I certainly can keep whoever is coming for her busy long enough so that she can disappear without being followed."

"Does she know?" she queried, fighting to keep her voice level and calm as she cast her worried gaze back toward the lake.

Draco shook his head. "No."

On some level, she had been expecting this to happen, and so despite every bone her body begging her to ask him to rethink his plan, she knew that fighting him on it would only make it harder for him to do what needed to be done. Love was a powerful thing, that was one thing she would always be able to understand, but the love her son had for Hermione, well that was something else entirely.

Even from the outside, it was obvious how well the two of them fit together. They were practically inseparable, not that they could get very far from each other being locked down on the property, and they spent precious little time out of each other's line of sight. Their similarities were plenty, but then again, so too were their differences. They challenged each other. They could communicate with a single look. They bickered only like a couple madly in love could. And no one, much to her husband's dismay, could keep up with them when they set to work researching something new in the extensive Malfoy library.

But they weren't simply just a good match; they were like two halves of a puzzle, each of them filling holes in the other that they didn't even know they had. On one hand, it reminded her of how she had felt when she first met Lucius – equal parts relieved and overwhelmed to have found someone who understood her completely and for whom she did the same. On the other hand, however, she couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't something else drawing the two of them together, if they weren't quite literally destined for each other.

And it certainly wouldn't be the first time a Malfoy danced with destiny.

"Your father has grown quite fond of her, you know," Narcissa said, placing a hand on her son's arm. "He won't listen if you tell him to leave with us. He won't let you face this alone."

A soft hiss escaped Draco's lips as he exhaled slowly. He didn't relish the idea of putting anyone else at risk, but he was already resigned to the fact that his father, even after years of barely speaking to one another, wasn't going to let his own flesh and blood (or Malfoy Manor for that matter) go down without a proper fight. He had told him as much last time they'd had the conversation.

" _You're incredibly frustrating, you know that right?" Draco groaned, dropping his head to hands. "Why can't you just listen to me?"_

" _I will not run away from my home like a coward. I will not allow this family to be torn apart by some fanatic," Lucius replied, somewhat angrily. "If you recall, I tried that once. It didn't quite work out well for any of us."_

_Draco sighed heavily, looking back at his father. "This is different, and you know it."_

" _Is it?" Lucius asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or am I just finally doing the thing that's right even though it's hard?"_

" _You don't need to sacrifice yourself. I've already volunteered myself for that job."_

_Lucius slammed his fist down onto his desk, a bit angrier than he intended. "Enough," he demanded, struggling to keep his voice calm. "This is not up for discussion."_

" _It should be," Draco asserted, refusing despite his father's insistence to drop the subject. "How many times do I have to tell you that there's no surviving this? You've seen what this magic can do," he paused, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. "I need you to keep her safe when I'm gone."_

_A flicker of pain crossed his father's face. "You are my son," he said, studying him sadly. "I may have spent most of your life making all the wrong decisions, but I am not going to make the wrong ones now. If standing by your side means you have even the slightest chance of making it through this to see your own child grow up, then I'm going to do it."_

_They had been having these kinds of conversations since Draco had woken up, in small doses and not always as direct as this one, but it was still unsettling to hear his father talking as if he had made sort of grand life epiphany. Two wars and a couple of short stints in Azkaban hadn't quite succeeded in completely stripping the Malfoy patriarch of his arrogant and sanctimonious ways, and so whatever was happening now, was almost too good to be true._

" _Why?" Draco prompted. "Why now?"_

_Lucius smiled. It was the kind of smile that Draco hadn't seen from his father since he had set off for Hogwarts for the very first time._

" _You know why," was his response._

_And Draco did. It was the exactly the same reason that he was doing any of this._

_Leave it to Hermione to melt even the coldest of Malfoy of hearts._

"I know," Draco said, pulling himself away from the memory. "I guess the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?"

Narcissa allowed herself a small laugh. "No," she chuckled softly. "It does not."

The two of them were quiet for a few minutes, both enthralled with Hermione's slow movements among the line of oak trees closest to the water.

"Do you need anything for tonight?" Narcissa asked, finally breaking the silence. She knew he disliked her meddling, but she couldn't help feeling excited; besides the baby, there had been precious little to be happy about since he had woken up.

"It's still going to be a firm no on the peacocks, if that's what you're asking," Draco replied, his voice much lighter than it had been a minute ago.

"Well, I wasn't talking about them specifically," Narcissa clarified, slightly amused. _But_ _Lucius will be so disappointed_ , she thought, holding back a smile. "I just meant that I'm happy to help if you need it," she clarified.

"Believe it or not," Draco began, trying not to roll his eyes at his mother, "I actually think I can handle this one on my own." He stopped, shoving a chilled hand into his pocket as he readjusted on his feet. "She's not really one for elaborate to-dos anyways," he explained. "I just wish I could give her one night free of worry, you know?" he added after a moment, the happiness quickly fading from his voice. "Just one fucking night where she didn't have to think about all the terrible shit going on around her."

"I know, Draco," Narcissa told him, not even bothering to reprimand him for his language, "and you will."

He had almost proposed the moment he woke up in the hospital and found Hermione by his side, without even a ring to prove to her that it was something he had been thinking about before he had been attacked. And there had been at least a hundred times when he had almost popped the question since, so it was shocking that he had managed to hold himself back for as long as he had. But then a few days ago, while in the midst of minor panic-induced rage, he had decided that he couldn't put it off any longer, that he couldn't keep pretending that each second with her wasn't as precious as it was.

Before he could manage a reply, however, a sharp noise, a yelp almost, rang out from the edge of the lake, causing both mother and son to jump in surprise.

"Draco!" came Hermione's worried voice a moment later.

Without a second thought, he was running, ignoring the sharp pain now shooting through his left thigh as he rushed toward her. His cane lay forgotten on the ground next to where he had left his mother, and his wand was raised in the air, poised to attack anything that appeared.

Hermione called his name again, and even though his heart was beating uncontrollably with panic, he was finally able to register that the edge to her voice was rooted in something far more pleasant than fear. He lowered his wand as he reached her and motioned for his mother to stay where she was.

"What's happened?" Draco demanded, still a little weary.

When she didn't answer right away, his eyes followed her gaze which was fixed on the top of her heavily sweater-ed stomach. One of her hands was resting on top of her bump, while the other was draped delicately on the side. She didn't appear to be harmed in any way, but his hands were still shaking as he took another step closer.

"Hermione?" he prompted softly, reaching out a hand to touch her.

It seemed this time she heard him, and when she finally looked up at him, there were tears glistening in her eyes.

"He's kicking," she told him, smiling.

Draco sighed heavily in relief. "Hermione, how many times do I have to tell you that it's not–" But he stopped in the middle of his sentence, the full extent of her words finally registering with him. "Kicking?"

Hermione nodded, still smiling as she grabbed one his hands and placed it on her belly. "Can you feel it?"

Instinctively, he dropped to his knees in front her, not caring how undignified he looked in the process, and moved his other hand next to the one she had already fixed in place. He didn't feel anything for a moment, but just as he opened his mouth to ask her whether she was sure she knew what she was talking about, a small flutter traveled under his fingers.

His heart nearly stopped.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

"Language, Malfoy," Hermione admonished jokingly, happy for once that it wasn't her swearing in disbelief.

But Draco wasn't really listening; his eyes were glued on her swollen stomach, studying it intently as if it held some sort of special power. Another flutter passed under the tips of his fingers, and he choked back a very un-Draco-like sob before finally looking up into Hermione's eyes.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" she said, moving a hand to the side of his face.

Draco was at a complete loss for words; he was completely entranced. And Hermione, who had grown quite used to the sullenness that had been following him around for weeks, had to keep herself from laughing as she watched the father of her unborn child come completely undone.

"He's a feisty little one," Draco observed when he had finally composed himself enough for words.

"Oh, it's a he now is it?" Hermione quipped, her eyes swirling with a mixture of love and amusement.

"He. She. Does it really matter?" Draco nearly shouted as he pushed himself back onto his feet.

Hermione chuckled. "No, it doesn't."

"We're having a baby," he whispered, bending his head toward her.

"Just figured that out, did you?" she replied, raising an eyebrow slightly.

He pulled her closer and gently moved his hands to the side of her face, his thumbs tracing soft lines along her cheeks before dropping his head and pressing his lips against her own.

It was the kind of kiss he usually reserved for when they were alone, but he didn't care. He needed to taste her; he needed to feel her gasp into his mouth as he greedily parted her lips with his tongue. He needed her to know how happy he was to be doing this with her. And very suddenly, almost faster than his brain could compute what his heart had decided, he silently Accio'd the small box hidden in his desk back in the garden home.

To hell with tonight; he was going to do this right now.

Without interrupting their kiss, he moved an arm to his side, his hand opened backward to give the box a target that wasn't the backside of his head. And only when, after what felt like ten minutes, it finally fell into his hand, did he pull away to study the woman in front of him, his heart beating furiously as he lost himself in her eyes.

"Why'd you stop?" Hermione mumbled, licking her lips as she returned his gaze, her eyes slightly unfocused.

Draco smiled. And it wasn't just the kind of smile he had been forcing out for the last few weeks; it was that devilishly handsome smile that had the wonderful habit of making his witch go weak in the knees.

"I love you," Draco said quietly. "So fucking much."

"Yes, yes, I love you too," Hermione told him, her hands already trying to coax him back to her lips. "Now can we get back to the kissing? I'm rather fond of that."

Despite the allure of her slightly swollen lips, he resisted until she got angry and looked up at him quizzically. But before she could open her mouth to demand that he explain himself, he was talking again, this time a little louder to hide the nerves bubbling below the surface.

"Hermione, I–" he began, struggling to think of the right thing to say. He shook his head frustratingly when nothing came to him. "Merlin, I can't even find the words to explain how much you mean to me," he blurted out, blushing when he realized he was how badly he was mucking the whole thing up.

Hermione smiled up at him sweetly. "You don't need to–"

"But I do," Draco asserted, tracing his fingers down the side of her face. "You are the single most brilliant and caring person that I have ever met, and I cannot even begin to express how happy you've made me since you came back into my life." He paused, running one of his hands through his hair. "I'm not really sure what I've done to deserve you or this–" he nodded toward her the swell of her stomach "–but I am going to do everything in my power to protect both of you for the rest of my life."

"Draco, I don't–"

"Just let me finish," he added, grabbing hold of her hand.

For a moment, he thought she might protest, but she quickly nodded for him to continue.

"You make me a better man. Hell, you make everyone around you a better version of themselves. You never give up, even when things get hard, and you never let anyone's shit slide. You're stubborn, but endearingly so." He was rambling now, but he didn't really care. "I love everything about you. Your hair, especially first thing in the morning. The freckles on your nose. This mouth." He paused again, drawing a finger across her lips to be sure she got the message. "You're intoxicatingly beautiful, and I'm addicted to you."

"Draco, what in the world has gotten into you?" she asked, now thoroughly confused.

"I should have added frustratingly impatient to your list of attributes," he noted, somewhat amused that she hadn't figured out what was going on yet. "I still had an encyclopedia of things to get through, but since you're being so bloody difficult…"

He dropped to one knee, and only then did Hermione realize what he was trying to do. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she watched, bewildered, as he moved a small box in front of him and opened it. Nestled inside the velvet interior was a diamond ring sparking softly against the dark fabric.

"Hermione Jean Granger, will you–?"

"YES!" she shouted before he could finish the question, and if he hadn't been so overcome with happiness, he would have probably rebuked her for interrupting him… again.

Instead, he slipped the ring on her finger, tossed the empty box over his shoulder, and stood up, barely giving her second to digest what had happened before he was kissing her so fervently that they both forgot to breathe.

"Only you would shout the answer to a question that hadn't even been properly asked yet," he noted when he finally managed to pull himself away.

Hermione blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I just couldn't wait."

"You never can," Draco replied, a small chuckle escaping his through. "Hopefully you can live with never knowing the second half of that question," he teased, brushing a curl out of her face.

"Oh, it's not like you were going to ask me to be your indentured servant or something," she retorted, rolling her eyes.

"I guess you'll never know," Draco smirked in response.

 _Why does he always look his most handsome when he's being the most difficult?_ she groaned inwardly as she tried not to melt in his arms.

"Will it make you feel better if I let you try again?" she asked tenderly.

"Maybe."

Hermione pursed together the pads of her pointer finger and thumb and made a zipping motion across her lips to indicate that she was going to be quiet.

Gods, she was adorable standing there studying him with her big, golden brown eyes, and it was a moment before Draco found the strength to open his mouth again.

"Will," he began, pausing to place a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"You." Another one on her neck.

"Marry." He moved his lips to the spot behind her ear.

"Me?" he finished, finally bringing his lips back to her mouth.

His touch had sent every nerve ending on her body into a tizzy, and in her haze, she almost forgot to answer when he pulled away. "I already gave you my answer, didn't I?" she told him dreamily.

"Say it again," he whispered, his lips still deliciously close to her own.

"Yes," she breathed. "Of course, I'll marry you, Malfoy."

This time, it was Hermione who threw her lips against his, and Draco smirked against her lips as her hands clung tightly to the sides of his face.

"Easy," he cautioned, grabbing her by the shoulders to steady her for a moment. "I'm not going anywhere."

She mumbled something incoherent in response, and he laughed.

"You're going to have to repeat yourself, love. I didn't quite catch that."

"I said," she began, pausing to take a deep, calming breath, "I can't believe it took you so long."

"Feeling cheeky, are we?" he said, poking jokingly at her nose. "Maybe I should have waited a bit longer," he taunted, laughing as she tried to swat his hand away. "You've barely looked at the ring I just put on your finger."

"Oh," was all she managed to say as realization crossed her face.

She felt Draco watching her, a bit too nervously she thought, as she finally extended her hand to study the new addition on her finger.

The diamond, which thankfully was not as large as she would have expected a Malfoy to go, was oval in shape and set in a beautiful gold band with an ornate – but not too ornate – bezel setting. But what really caught her eye though was its sparkle. It was almost as if it was glowing from within, and when she inspected it closer, she realized the surface of the diamond was actually multi-faceted.

"Do you like it?" Draco asked, his voice a little unsure.

He thought the ring was much like her; somehow both understatedly and impressively beautiful, and when he had found it crammed in the corner of a small Muggle shop, he didn't even pause to consider that maybe she wouldn't want something quite that unique.

"It's beautiful," Hermione said, tearing her eyes away from her finger.

Draco let a sigh of relief. "Just like you," he murmured, brushing a finger down the side of her face.

"Is it always supposed to glow like this?" she asked curiously, looking down again as she turned her hand for a slightly different view.

Draco chuckled. "It's a rose-cut diamond," he told her, running a finger over the hand. "It shines best under fire- or candlelight, so I charmed it to look like it was in case I couldn't get the lighting right." He pulled out his wand and muttered a few words over the ring to remove the spell.

Even without the glow, the diamond was still like nothing she had never seen before. It was easier to see the surface of the stone, and she watched in awe as the light bounced off each small facet in a different way.

She had never really been able to articulate what bothered her so much about the engagement rings that littered Muggle television and magazine ads, but as she stared at her own, something clicked. As it turned out, the problem wasn't so much the idea of the ring itself, which she had always feared was the case; the problem was simply that she didn't much appreciate everyone's obsession with flashy and bold – it made rings look, for lack of a better term, cold. And somehow, without perhaps meaning to, Draco had managed to figure that out before she could even do the same for herself.

"It's perfect," she said after a moment, finally dropping her hand back to her side. "I love it."

"Good," Draco said, pulling her into his arms. "And I love you."

Hermione nuzzled herself against his chest, inhaling deeply. "I love you so much," she said quietly, pausing to listen to the steady beating of his heart. "Seriously though," she continued, looking back up at him, "what took you so long?"

* * *

Narcissa knew she should have walked away a long time ago, but she couldn't help it. There was something so heartening about watching a young couple take another big step together, and when the ring box had flown by her head on its way to Draco, she knew she had to see how it ended.

"Spying again, are we?" a familiar voice jested from somewhere behind her.

She turned, her hand still clasped over her mouth, and motioned with her other hand for her husband to join her.

"Ahh," Lucius said, catching sight of Draco and Hermione embracing each other by the water. "He did it then?"

Narcissa nodded, finally removing her hand from her mouth. "And threw all of his plans out the window in the process."

"Sounds familiar," Lucius noted, the corner of his mouth turned up into a small smile.

She chuckled quietly. "Of all the things the Malfoy men have been said to be inflicted with, I think spontaneity might be the most underappreciated."

"Either that or the kind of stubbornness that can only be born from a knock you off your feet kind of love," he replied quite seriously.

"Yes," Narcissa agreed, her thoughts straying to the moment that she too had fallen hard for a Malfoy. "That too."

"They should hold the ceremony quickly," Lucius said, his eyes nervously scanning the sky above them. "I don't care what Draco thinks about our family vows. A solidified bond will ensure the wards will protect her the same as any other Malfoy."

"Something tells me that won't really be an issue anymore," his wife mused, gesturing toward the look on Draco's face as he guided Hermione toward them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I was going to wait to post this until next week but figured posting it now would force me to get the next couple of chapters ready to go this weekend.
> 
> I don't have much to say about this chapter except as much as I tried to avoid an OOC Lucius, I just couldn't do it. I like him better a bit reformed.
> 
> Shoutout to ThatLadyPotter, Calimocho, and Dramione5263 (ffnet) for their continued dedication to reviewing each chapter - your support keeps me motivated to finish this thing, so thank you! And to everyone else following along, I see your likes/follows/comments, and they warm my (icy, black) heart!


	22. Tradition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs – Blodfest by Danheim and Heldom, Bad Karma by Axel Thesleff, and If I Had A Heart by Karin Dreijer Andersson and Fever Ray

_But first, an interlude…_

If you were fortunate enough to be able to rewind a few thousand years, and if you happened to situate yourself in exactly the right place, you might just have been able to witness the real start of all this.

You see, it began like it so often does, with a group of people searching for a better life. Land once covered by expansive ice quite suddenly, at least in geologic terms, become enticing to a brave few willing to deal with a bit of brutal cold. And where there is open land, people will move.

Those who came weren't rich, at least not initially, but they were resourceful, almost obsessively so. Survival was the game, and to win, you needed a kind of determination, a stubbornness if you will, that kept you moving despite everything in your body telling you no. It was a time when living to see the next season, or even the next day, meant understanding the things around you. A connection to the natural world wasn't just essential, it was everything, and the people who flourished, the ones whose genes still survive to this day, didn't take that knowledge for granted.

It might sound cliché, and no one could blame you for rolling your eyes, but great things – truly powerful, impressive things – are born from moments like this.

So, pay attention.

They say that magical ability comes from within, that it's literally written into your genetic code, and they're right… mostly. But what they forget, what is so often overlooked in the stories of any beginning, is that evolution is a fickle thing. Something, and not just anything, had to happen for any kind of magic to end up in there at all. And something stranger, an intervention of the gods some might say, is what it takes to tap into even more.

A little bit of luck lies at the heart of all beginnings, and in this particular story, the Norse, or more accurately, the people who would eventually give birth to the most powerful among them, were gifted with something rather out of this world.

It all started with a young adolescent girl, who, according to her mother, was a bit too curious for her own good. Her family were humble farmers in a very unforgiving landscape, as were most people in her high latitude neck of the woods, but as much as she respected what those around her did to survive, she yearned for something else – a little bit of adventure. She wanted, more than anything, to discover new things in places no one she knew had been.

But there were rules about where people could go, mostly dictated from men who dared to claim ownership over a land that could never truly be owned. And she tried to obey, she really did; she just found that she didn't much appreciate a few greedy old fools telling her what to do. So, she explored the old forests outside of her village anyways, knowing that if she was caught, she would face a great deal more than a simple tongue-lashing from her mother.

For a long while, nothing exciting happened. She didn't see anything abnormal; she, rather disappointedly, didn't witness anything otherworldly. But she learned, filling her young brain with more information than she knew what to do with. And then one day, while she was racing home to beat the setting sun, she was hit with a strange light, the strength of it knocking her right off her feet. She blacked out for a moment, and when she finally came to, she felt her body overcome with an odd sensation – a buzzing of sorts that reverberated all the way down to her bones.

Now, most people would have been terrified, or at the very least, would have found the entire situation a little odd, but the girl didn't have the privilege of lingering long enough to figure out how she really felt. There would be hell to pay if she didn't make it home before dark, and so she ran, deciding somewhere between the spot of the strange attack and her family's fields that she must have imagined the entire thing.

But she hadn't. What had happened was very real.

In the months that followed, strange things started to happen around her. At the beginning they were small, and as you will probably recognize, not unlike the things that happen around anyone maturing into their magical self. Things broke when she was angry. Her family's crops miraculously regrew after being attacked by blight. Food appeared on their table even when they had none. And then, without really knowing how, she learned to control her power, and that's when it would have become obvious to anyone practiced in the magical arts that she wasn't just an ordinary witch.

She was strong, impressively so, and could out-match even the most skilled of warriors with nothing but her fists. She could control people's emotions, especially when she was angry about something they had done. She could, when the fancy struck her, even manipulate the elements, although the effort would leave her too exhausted to do much else for a few hours. And as unbelievable as it sounds, she could read the minds of people she cared about both near and far. But perhaps what might be most surprising to anyone reading this, was that she did all of this – and quite a bit more – without a wand to assist her or a school to show her how.

So yes, she was special. And fortunately, it was a time when seers and mages weren't shunned; they were worshiped with a kind of fervor that might be hard to imagine in a world where magic is hidden from those without it. But being born with magic in her veins, especially when you consider that her parents had not been, would have been enough to set her apart from everyone else around her. What she had was different, however, and it would be the understatement of the past few centuries to say that she didn't thrive.

Now, the girl never truly understood just how lucky she had been that day in the woods, not until her mortal body had been long buried away, but since this is a story, an unwritten saga of sorts, we have a bit of perspective that she never could as a mortal being. Her curiosity, or rather, her raw determination and grit, had been rewarded with power. And not just any power. Someone or something, depending on where in the spectrum of belief you lie, gifted her with the tool to learn more, to do more. And, without even realizing there had been a purpose to all of it, she did.

Of course, no one lives forever, and when she finally passed, she left behind a legacy of magical feats – and similarly gifted children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren – unlike anything that had come before. Centuries passed, the old gods died, new gods were born, and most of the people of the land marched on none the wiser. But her descendants, at least the ones who had been fortunate enough to inherit her power, never forgot. They couldn't. Her gift was as much a part of them as it had been of her, and so long as they were careful, so long as they didn't muck anything up, it could never be lost.

Unfortunately, as you might have already guessed, they weren't careful at all. In fact, it could be said that they waltzed right into their own demise. And that my friends, is all you really need to know before we move on.

Well that, and perhaps trust that a bit of destiny can be an extraordinary thing.

* * *

"Will you stop your fidgeting," Theo said with a roll of his eyes. "It's a suit, not a torture device."

"Says the man waving a sharp object around in the air," Draco replied, suspiciously eyeing the large pin his friend was holding dangerously close to the top of his leg. "As much as I appreciate your help, it's still not entirely clear to me why you volunteered for this job," he added with a grumble.

"You learn how to do a lot on your own when the world shuns you," Theo explained, seemingly unperturbed by both Draco's mood and the solemnness that should have surrounded his comment. "And seeing as there would have been no way to tear your mother away from Hermione today, I figured you'd prefer these delicate hands over whatever ancient house elf your father would have sent to do the job."

 _He's not wrong_ , Draco admitted silently as he willed his limbs to relax.

Draco knew that if it weren't for the suit, Theo would have found some other excuse for his presence at the Manor. He had been over so much that Narcissa had stopped asking if was spending the night and instead had converted one of the countless guest bedrooms into Theo's own quasi-permanent residence. And no matter how much Draco argued with him, no matter how many times Draco told him it was safer if he stayed away, Theo refused to listen. It seemed that Hermione, intended or not, had won over the heart of yet another Slytherin, and there was simply nothing Draco could do to convince his friend that he didn't need to risk his life to help keep her safe.

"Well, for what it's worth, thank you," Draco said as he studied himself in the mirror, emphasizing the words as if to say that he wasn't just talking about the suit.

"Yes, yes," Theo replied flippantly before flicking his wand to close the open seams at the bottom of Draco's pant legs. "Although I applaud your attempts to find new and wonderful ways to torture Lucius," he said, taking a step back to admire his handiwork, "I can't say that I understand your continued refusal to just wear your damn dress robes like a normal wizard."

Draco exhaled deeply, pushing his breath out of his mouth roughly. "I just wanted to surprise her with something a little less…"

"Malfoy?" Theo supplied quickly, smirking as he grabbed another pin from the pile on the floor.

Draco chuckled. "Exactly."

He hadn't owned a suit in years – he certainly hadn't needed one during his travels or in his duties as an Auror – and although his relatively new dress robes would have worked just fine, he wanted to give Hermione at least one thing that didn't have Sacred Twenty-Eight written all over it when she walked down the aisle.

"She doesn't actually care how she marries you," Theo assured him as he pinned back one of the arms of Draco's jacket, "just that she does."

"I know," Draco said, his voice almost a whisper as his thoughts began to wander.

The saint that she was, Hermione didn't even hesitate in her agreement to be tied to his family through the vows that had bound generations of Malfoy's before, and the realization that she trusted him to know what was right, that she didn't even question his motives or change of heart, had shaken him to his core. He had wanted to give her the world, whatever world she wanted to carve out for the two of them and their child, but instead, the only thing he could truly promise her was the protection of a family he had not long ago swore he didn't want to be beholden to. From his perspective, it was another tick under the long column of reasons he didn't deserve her, and not even her insistence otherwise had been successful in changing his mind.

"You are doing the right thing," Theo told him, noting the pained look on his friend's face. "Outdated or not, the vows will ensure she's protected here the same as any other Malfoy."

Draco made a sound somewhere between a grunt and sigh. "She shouldn't have to do any of this," he said somewhat angrily, "but seeing as there's precious little else I can do to keep her safe…" he trailed off as his thoughts drifted to images of his most recent nightmare.

"Draco," Theo began, pausing his work to place a hand on Draco's shoulder, "you're doing everything you can."

"And what if everything isn't enough?" Draco asked seriously. "What if, despite everything I've planned, I can't get her away fast enough? What if whoever is looking for her still manages to find her?"

"We fight," Theo said rather simply.

"Theo," Draco warned, trying to swallow his anger, "we've discussed this."

"Yes, multiple times," Theo agreed, placing another pin on the arm of the jacket, "I've just decided to ignore everything that's come out of your mouth recently."

Draco threw his head back. "Of course, you have," he groaned, bringing a hand to the side of his face as he closed his eyes. "If I didn't know better, I would worry that you and my father have been conspiring behind my back."

"Oh, we are," Theo admitted a bit too freely. "Potter too."

Draco's eyes snapped open. "This is not a fucking joke," he nearly shouted, his fists balled at his sides. "Harry has a family."

"And Hermione is a part of it," Theo explained. The only indication he gave that he had noticed the angry hand inches from his face was a slight widening of his eyes, but Draco, who was too busy trying to calm himself, wasn't paying attention. "And good luck stopping the bloody Chosen One," Theo continued, unable to stop himself. "In case you've lost your damn mind and forgotten, many a dark wizard have died trying to do just that."

Draco sucked in a calming breath and let it out slowly. _Why will none of them listen to me?_

"I'm surrounded by idiots," he mumbled finally, accepting, at least for the moment, that arguing with Theo wasn't going to fix anything.

"Loyal idiots," Theo amended before deciding it was safe to continue his work and using his wand to maneuver a needle and thread to the edge of Draco's sleeve.

"To whom exactly?" Draco replied, watching the action happening at the end of his arm with a level of intent that suggested he was expecting the needle to pierce his skin at any second.

"You sure you really want that answer?" Theo queried, ignoring Draco's piercing glare as he turned his attention to the other sleeve.

"No," he asserted, shaking his head. _It always comes back to her._ "I don't."

The two friends were quiet for a moment as Theo finished the other sleeve, pausing only when the last seam around Draco's wrist had been closed.

"Does she know what you have planned?" Theo asked suddenly, taking a step back so that he could inspect his work.

Draco shook his head. "No," he told him, pausing to take a deep breath. "It would just break her heart," he added, his voice almost a whisper as he fought to keep himself crumbling apart. "She can't know. Not yet. Not until it's time."

The torment was obvious in Draco's face, and Theo swallowed rather heavily for a man who had long ago decided love wasn't actually real. "Maybe she'll never have to know," he offered despite knowing how unlikely that would be.

"Yeah," Draco somehow managed in reply, "maybe."

Planning Hermione's escape had occupied much of his time since being released from the hospital, and although he was confident that he had come up with a plan that, if everything went perfectly, would work, there were at least three things he wished he could do over again.

Draco had started his research with his father, asking him for every bit of information he had on the Malfoy properties that, for whatever dubious reasons, had been kept out of the family's official records. There had been a lot to wade through, especially considering how much Lucius had tried to hide from both sides before the start of the war, but when it became clear that there were only a handful of properties his father could be sure no one outside of the family knew about, he had selected the oldest, most obscure of the bunch knowing it was best they were going to be able to do for her.

But involving his father had been his first mistake. He should have known that Lucius would piece together what he was planning, but what was done was done, and the elder Malfoy's decision had been made. Draco, no matter how much he protested, wouldn't be facing whatever was coming alone.

His second mistake had been involving Harry, and that pill had been much harder to swallow. After picking the safe house and sending Wally to make sure the place was as properly abandoned as his father had promised, Draco had asked Harry if he could manage making a portkey without it landing on the Ministry's registration list. Of course, Harry had known what that favor meant, and only agreed after reminding Draco, rather annoyingly, that he was Harry fucking Potter and would do whatever he wanted, including making a bloody secret portkey and choosing to fight alongside Draco and his father.

If it weren't for Theo's aptitude for snooping around dark and dreary Manors, Draco might have succeeded in sparing at least one other person he cared about, but unfortunately, Theo was rather gifted in the sneaking around places he shouldn't be department and forgetting that somewhat major detail had been Draco's third and final mistake. Theo, like both Lucius and Harry before him, seemed to be infected with the same kind of risk everything heroism and had announced that whatever the fuck was going on, he was in.

And so now, despite having wanted nothing of the sort, Draco was in charge of wrangling a group of rather opinionated men. Their strange quartet, a rag-tag team of knights in not-so-shining armor, would have raised a few eyebrows in the outside world, and Draco, even as anxious as was about their involvement, couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. He only wished that he wasn't so bothered.

It wasn't that Draco didn't appreciate their support, that he didn't feel moved by their refusal to allow him to fight the unknown foe alone, because he did, very much so. What bothered him was that he couldn't trust that they'd be able to keep the whole secret if they were caught and tortured, and so, despite knowing their combined knowledge would likely improve Hermione's chances of survival, he let them believe that the safe house was the end of it. But it wasn't, and only his mother would know what to do after that.

"Can't say I wouldn't have taken the bet if someone told me three Slytherins, two of them former Death Eaters, would team up with Harry Potter to save Gryffindor's princess a decade after the war," Theo said, tearing Draco away from his thoughts.

Draco knew Theo hadn't said the words to be harsh, but he still couldn't stifle the cringe that followed.

"I can't disagree with you there," Draco conceded, forcing himself to smile despite feeling anything but chipper. "Honestly, I would have bet against anything that's happened in my life recently. I don't deserve–"

"I have absolutely no qualms about shoving a pin into your arse cheek if you finish that sentence," Theo interrupted without even the slightest hint of humor in his voice.

Surprising himself, Draco snorted. "I'd like to see you try," he retorted, wishing more than anything that he could just take everyone to a time and place where Theo's threat was the only thing troubling him.

* * *

Hermione shivered as she crawled into bed, her body immediately seeking out the warmth emanating from the man next to her.

"You're always so warm," she said as she snuggled closer, shoving her feet under his own as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Merlin, Hermione," Draco exclaimed, dropping the book he was reading as he tried to pull his legs away from her surprisingly strong death grip. "If you insist on invading my personal space, you should at least make sure your body parts are fully thawed."

"Pregnant, remember?" she mumbled somewhat incoherently into his shoulder. "You have no right to complain about anything."

She was right, of course, but he couldn't just let her minor act of bedroom treason slide.

"I'm sorry, your majesty," he jested, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Could you possible find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Hermione lifted her head and stuck her tongue out. "Shut it, Malfoy," she replied, brushing a few strands of his hair to the side. "I'm growing a human being. The least you can do is let me use you as my own personal heater box."

A small laugh escaped Draco's throat. "Yes, dear," he smirked. "Personal heater box, at your service."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything snarky in reply, he was kissing her, his hands moving softly over the swell of her stomach.

"I love you," he told her when he managed to pull himself away.

"Mmm?" she mumbled, her eyes still somewhat dazed. "I love you too," she amended quickly when she finally came back to herself. He was studying her, a small smile on his face, and she had to resist the urge she still felt to hide herself away from his piercing gaze. "Why do you always do that?" she asked curiously.

"What?" he replied absently, still too engrossed with the emotions swirling across her face.

"Stare at me like that," she answered, nodding her head at him.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked her.

"If it was, then I wouldn't be asking you, would I?" she retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Draco moved a hand to the side of her face. "I love watching how you react to things," he began, pausing to lick his lips. "Your face is incredibly expressive."

"Great," she groaned, "so I'm an open book."

"No, that's not it at all," Draco assured her. "I mean yes, anyone with a functioning set of eyeballs can see when you're angry or sad, but I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about what happens when I do this," he paused to trace his thumb over her plump bottom lip, "and this," he paused again, bringing his lips to the corner of her mouth.

Hermione inhaled sharply as a warmth spread across her cheeks.

"See?" Draco prompted, pulling back to study her again as she tried to steady her breathing. "It's hard to control myself when I see you reacting to me like this."

"And I'm supposed to believe that's an attractive quality?" she prompted nervously.

"Yes," he replied simply, his eyes moving across her face as if he was trying to memorize every curve and corner.

"Why don't I have the same effect on you?" she inquired curiously, bringing a hand to side of his face. She watched, waiting for some sort of obvious reaction, but the only change she caught on his face was a slight fluttering in his eyelids. "Why don't you blush like a teenage girl every time that I touch you?"

"Hermione, you unravel me," Draco admitted, his voice quieter than it had been a moment ago. "I lose my breathe when I catch you stealing a longing glance at me. I want to break things when you're sad. I literally cannot function if I don't know where you are." He paused, watching as she bit her bottom lip. "And I am absolutely terrified that I'm going to wake up one day and realize that this has all been a dream."

She wanted to protest, she wanted to tell him that the only person who had done any unraveling in their relationship was her, but when she saw the look of pure lust for her in his eyes, she found herself completely at a loss for words.

"You know," Draco began, amused with the disbelief still painted on Hermione's face, "you're lucky I'm not the kind of guy who requires actual verbal responses after baring my soul to you."

Hermione knew he was joking, but she didn't actually disagree with his words.

"I'm lucky to have you at all," she whispered, the gold in her eyes subdued slightly as she tried to fight back tears.

"Granger, if anyone is lucky to have anyone in this relationship, it's me who's lucky to have you," he asserted, pulling her closer to him before she could scoot away.

"You almost died because of me," she told him, blinking furiously as if that would help keep her emotions at bay. "You still–"

"Stop," he told her, his placing a finger over her mouth. "Rodolphus only came for me because he wanted revenge. Even without whatever task was given to him, he would have come for someone in my family eventually." He paused, brushing his fingers across her forehead before burying his hand in her soft curls. "And you are not responsible, nor will you ever be, for the actions of someone who is threatening your life and the life of our child."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, mulling over his words. "I know you're planning something," she said finally, the tone of her voice more accusatory than she had intended. "I know you all are, and I don't like being left in the dark."

Draco exhaled deeply. He didn't want to lie to her, but he also didn't think it was smart to give her a play-by-play. "We just want to keep you safe," he offered, hoping she wouldn't pry any further.

"But I don't want anyone else to get hurt," she admitted sadly, pausing to inhale a shaky breath. "I don't think I could live with myself if something happened to any of you."

She still blamed herself for not recognizing the ash tree sooner, and the limp that plagued Draco was a near constant reminder of her failure. She should have been more diligent about researching the tree. She should have spent the night after he disappeared buried in her books. Because if she had, if she had just done one thing differently, he wouldn't have had to withstand Rodolphus' brutal torture.

"I know the feeling," Draco told her, smiling weakly, the calmness in his voice calling her back to him.

They locked eyes, neither sure what to say to ease the tension in the air, before Hermione, despite every cell in her body screaming at her to demand answers, buried her head against Draco's chest and sighed. She didn't really need to hear him say the words to know what he was thinking because she already knew what they were.

_I will kill to keep you safe._

Draco allowed his eyes to close as he moved a hand softly along her spine. The ceremony tomorrow was just a formality at this point. She was it for him; she had been since she had stumbled back into his life a short few months ago, and there simply was no going back to a life without her. Losing her would break him, and not simply in a grief-stricken kind of way. If anyone hurt Hermione, if anyone took her away from him, he didn't care what oaths he had sworn; he wouldn't rest until he made them pay.

"I can't believe you want to marry me," he heard her mutter into his chest.

His eyes snapped open and he rolled them before lifting her head so she could see him when he said what he was going to say next. "You are the single most difficult witch I've ever met," he began, brushing the wayward curls away from her face as she frowned. "And still there is absolutely no one I'd rather spend the rest of my life with."

"Brilliant speech," she groaned. "I hope you have something more romantic to say tomorrow."

"I wasn't finished," he told her.

His stupidly perfect smile made her heart flutter, and she pursed her lips together in attempt to keep herself under control even though all she wanted was to feel his lips against hers. And she was so caught up in her own thoughts, that she let out a yelp of surprise when he turned her onto her back and began kissing his way down her body, pushing her shirt out his way as he moved.

"Malfoy," she managed, despite the fact that his tongue was dangerously close to her nipple. "Shouldn't we– fuck– save this–" she paused breathing heavily "–for tomorrow?"

Draco lifted his head and moved a hand to her swollen stomach. "Fuck tradition," he growled before kissing her with such a fury that it took her breath away.

* * *

The room was as dark and dreary as it had always been, but something about the air felt different, ominous almost (as much as he hated to admit it).

A storm was raging outside his small hideaway, pelting the small windows of his humble abode with heavy drops of rain. The wind was howling as if it was calling to something hidden away in the darkness outside, and every old wood board in the walls to groaned in protest as it battered against the house.

It was the kind of storm that threatened someone's very existence, and many, his ancestors even, would have found some profound meaning in what was happening outside his front door. Perhaps on some level, so did he, but if he had learned anything in his exceptionally long life, it was that the gods only had power if you gave it to him, and he simply refused to give that kind of allegiance to anyone.

And honestly, god driven or not, the storm was really the least of his fucking problems.

Groaning, the man snatched the mug off the table in front of him and downed its contents, relishing the burn of the mead in the back of his throat as he swallowed and desperately hoping the alcohol would dull the discomfort shooting through his veins. The strange sensation in his fingers had spread and intensified more quickly than he had anticipated, shifting from a manageable tingle to an almost debilitating and near constant electrical shock. Perhaps it was his resistance to the change, or perhaps it was the fact that he'd let things get this far, but he couldn't remember a time feeling quite this tired and worn, and the only thing that seemed to help was copious amounts of alcohol.

Breathing heavily, he eyed the empty mug in his hand, trying to decide if he should drink more or just take the last of his potion for a bit of sleep. It had been days since he'd gotten any real rest, so the second option was temping, but not quite tempting enough and he snapped his fingers, watching with heavy eyes as his mug refilled in his hands. Sleep, he decided, could wait until this was finally over.

"Skål," he muttered to the empty room.

He sipped the mead more slowly this time, trying to find some sort of relief in the burn on his tongue as he swirled the cool liquid around in his mouth. The reprieve was much too brief, however, lasting only a few short seconds before his nervous system seemed to remember the electrical current still running through every inch of his body. Her cursed angrily and brought the mug back to his lips, ignoring the streams of liquid escaping down into his beard as he chugged the rest of his drink.

Inhaling deeply, he used his sleeve to wipe the remnants of the mead from his face before sitting back heavily in his chair. He rested a hand on the edge of the table while the fingers of the other toyed with the empty mug, trembling slightly as they traced around the lip. Weakness wasn't something he was particularly fond of, and the first time he had noticed the shaking in his hands, he spun into such a fury that by the time he calmed down he had nearly torn the entire house apart, but it had also awoken a part of him that had been asleep for far too long.

Living was easy – comfortable almost – it always had been for him, but overcoming a destiny designed to end in your demise was survival at its purest. And there was really nothing quite like it.

It had taken him much longer than he cared to admit finding a weakness in the wards, but that no longer mattered; he had finally found a way past them. In a few short hours, his wait would finally be over, and no one, not the golden boy, not the people whose house she was hiding in, not even the one he knew would die trying to protect her, was going to get in his way. He didn't care what his ancestors would have said about the whole situation; none of them were around to order him around anyways. The _megin_ was his and his alone.

_Fuck tradition._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to channel my inner Neil Gaiman (à la American Gods) for the interlude in this one, and I hope it doesn't detract too much from the story. For those who haven't read AG – there are interludes littered throughout the book, documenting the origins of different gods. I quite like the approach for introducing material that the main characters aren't necessarily privy to, so I kind of ran with it here.
> 
> Also, I know this chapter is a bit of a filler, but I wanted to get a few things out that wouldn't have been possible if I had just jumped ahead to the next big thing. I promise you won't have to wait very long for the next one.
> 
> And as always, thank you so much to everyone who has been reviewing, especially to all those silent readers who decided last week was the week to finally say hello!


	23. An Ancient Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going completely soundtrack this week, folks.
> 
> Songs - Lívstræðrir by John Lunn and Eivør (from The Last Kingdom), Wicked Games by Ramin Djawadi (from Westworld), and Man in Black by Sonya Belousova and Giona Ostinelli (from The Witcher).

Draco was standing near the edge of the Manor's lake under a wooden arch that had been decorated with simple greenery and tasteful pockets of snowdrop, rocking nervously on his feet. It was bit dreary for an outdoor wedding, and the downpour would have been enough to drive anyone inside, but no one had complained when he stormed outside, angrily flicking his wand to build a temporary shield that would keep everyone warm and dry. They all knew how important it was to him that he be able to make the day special for Hermione and had simply followed him into the gloom, adding their own magic to the shield without so much as a prompt.

The day should have been perfect, it certainly shouldn't have been this rushed, and Draco hated that he couldn't give Hermione something more joyful (and pleasant in terms of weather), but he knew it was necessary. Binding themselves together using his family's vows would provide her a level of protection that no other ceremony could duplicate. And hopefully, when the time came, it would be enough.

Even though the world around him seemed to be falling apart, and at the moment being drowned from above, he was happy that the moment was finally here. His heart had been beating furiously all day, especially since his mother had kicked him out of the garden home early that morning, but now that he found himself staring down an empty, candle-lit pathway, waiting anxiously for his bride, the pounding in his chest had suddenly gone into overdrive. He didn't know why he was so nervous; he knew how much Hermione loved him, and yet, he still felt like he was dangerously close to passing out. And was he imagining things, or had he gone a little too crazy with the damn warming charm? _Fuck,_ he thought as he tugged impatiently at his collar.

"Relax," Theo said, slapping his friend's back. "She hasn't run away from you yet."

"Very helpful," Draco replied sarcastically, dropping his hand to his side. "Any second now, she's going to realize what an arse I am and decide she's better off alone."

Theo rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be so dramatic," he scoffed.

"I am not dramatic," Draco muttered under his breath, suddenly wishing he had thought to place a silencing charm around his best man.

"Draco," Theo chuckled as he moved back into position opposite Ginny, who was finding their whole interaction quite entertaining, "you are the most dramatic person that I've ever met."

"You. Are. Not. Helping," Draco replied, clenching his teeth together.

Ginny sniggered, hiding her face behind her small bouquet when Draco's head swiveled in her direction. "Your tie is crooked," she told him after a moment, looking over at Theo with an amused look on her face.

Draco's eyes widened, and he hastily looked down, groaning when he realized it was just fine. "You're not helping either, Weasley," he snapped, ignoring the laughs that followed.

_We really should have just done this without them._

Taking a deep breath, Draco risked a glance at his parents, who were standing slightly to the side in front of the arch. His father was standing somewhat rigidly with one arm resting on his favorite decorative cane and the other bent slightly across his body, his hand resting near the bottom of his ribcage. When he felt Draco's gaze on him, he bowed his head slightly, and Draco returned the gesture knowing it was the only bit of fatherly support he was going to get. His mother, on the other hand, was doing her best to keep her composure, but there was no hiding the glassiness in her eyes or the sweet smile on her lips. She was happy for her son.

"Steady yourself, mate," Draco heard Theo say, his eyes snapping back to the end of the path before he could return his mother's smile.

The air left his lungs when he finally caught sight of Hermione. She was walking alongside Harry, her arm locked around his for support, and even though her eyes were cast downward, Draco was convinced that she had never looked quite as ethereal as she did at that very moment. She was dressed in a long, sleeveless, flowy white gown, the fabric of which perfectly accentuated her growing baby bump. Her hair was down, her soft curls shimmering under the strategically placed lights, and even with her head still tipped forward, he could that see her lips were spread into a shy smile. There was no pretense, no veil, no ridiculous beauty charms, nothing that Hermione had deemed barbaric, and it was perfect. He couldn't look away, and when she finally looked up and locked eyes with him, his legs nearly buckled underneath of him.

As she approached, his heartbeat quickened, so much so that he thought it might leap right out of his chest. Only this time it wasn't nerves or anxiety or even the anticipation of this very moment; it was pure excitement. She really wanted to do this. She really wanted to marry him. And he still couldn't believe how lucky he was that she did.

Hermione kept her eyes on Draco as she made her way down the rest of the aisle, trying to ignore the part of her that was screaming at her to just sprint as quickly as she could towards him. They had been separated since Narcissa had roused her out of bed earlier that day, and although she had enjoyed the pampering that had followed, it was the longest her and Draco had been apart since he had left the hospital, and it hadn't done any wonders for her nerves. Seeing him now, seeing him dressed in that ridiculously sexy suit with his perfectly tousled platinum blonde hair and annoyingly handsome smile, made her feel a little weak in the knees.

And honestly, if it weren't for Harry's position at her side, she might just have made a fool of herself by crumbling to the ground.

She tried not to look around at the others as she walked, but when she passed by Lucius, she couldn't help but glance in his direction, curious to see if was still as supportive as he had been leading up to this day. And although she couldn't be sure that there was anything to glean from his face other than his general approval, she could have sworn there was a strange gleam in his eyes, a flicker of adoration that she had never seen there before, and in that moment she realized just how much he looked like his son.

The thought was all she needed to return her attention to Draco, and she caught his eyes once more, the intensity in his gaze threatening to consume her as she took the final few steps toward him. It wasn't until Harry released her arm and stepped to the side that she realized she had been holding her breath, and she finally exhaled, relaxing under the shadow of the man she was about to bind herself to for the rest of her life.

"Hi," she said a bit awkwardly, cringing slightly at how ridiculous the word sounded coming out of her mouth.

"Fuck," Draco breathed, clearly unbothered, his eyes busy trying to memorize every inch of her. "You're beautiful."

"It's just the dress," she replied quickly, echoing the same words she had said to him during the banquet when he had tried to convince her otherwise.

"No, it's definitely you," he told her, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are incredible, and you need to start believing that."

Hermione blushed a deep red. "Okay," she told him, surprising even herself with her ready agreement. "But fuck, have you seen yourself?" she added attempting to shift the focus onto him without filtering the words through her brain. "You're– just look at you."

 _What the fuck was that, Hermione?_ she asked herself when she realized what she had just said out loud.

Draco chuckled softly, noting the way her lips had pinched together in self-annoyance, and brought a hand to the side of her face to comfort her.

 _Sorry_ , she mouthed as she pressed her check against the palm of his hand.

 _Don't be_ , he mouthed back.

From behind the podium, Harry awkwardly cleared his throat. "So, uhh, care to get started?" he asked, holding back a snigger. "Or should we just stand here until the two of you are done making calf eyes at each other?"

"Just waiting on you, Potter," Draco retorted, too enamored with the witch in front of him to feel any sort of embarrassment. He brushed his thumb across Hermione's cheek and gave her a loving smile before dropping his hand.

"Alright then," Harry said, opening the old book sitting in front of him to the page that Lucius had marked with a small piece of green velvet cloth.

 _Slytherins_ , he groaned inwardly, pushing the cloth to the side so that he could located the start the Malfoy binding ceremony that he was now responsible for officiating.

He took a deep breath, using the moment to look around at the small group that had come together for the ceremony before turning back to the words on the page.

"Those who have assembled here today and noble ancestors who watch from behind the veil, we welcome you here to bear witness to the binding of these two souls," he began, his finger tracing softly down the worn paper as he read. "You have come here to offer your blessings and share in this sacred bond, one that will unite Draco and Hermione in both commitment and love in this life and the next," Harry paused to take another deep breath, his eyes wandering to Ginny, whose eyes were flickering between the couple as if she was worried that she might miss an important emotional reaction.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger, have you come here freely and without reservation to bind yourselves to each other?" Harry asked, smiling softly as he looked between the couple.

"Yes," Hermione and Draco replied in unison, reaching out for each other's hands.

"Will you honor each other as husband and wife for the rest of your lives?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in their voices.

A quiet sob penetrated the air, but neither Hermione nor Draco could find the strength to look away from one another to locate the source. Harry, on the other hand, stole a quick glance at his wife and had to hold back a chuckle when he noticed the obvious glassiness in her eyes.

"Are you now ready to embark upon this ancient and sacred bond?" Harry prompted.

"Yes." Their voices were quieter now, but not because they were scared; rather, neither of them could trust that their voices would hold if they spoke any louder.

Harry had been instructed to ignore the other more archaic questions that were listed on the page, not that he needed any more convincing, and so he turned to nod at Lucius, who then stepped forward to initiate the formal bonding process.

"Vinculum incipere," the elder Malfoy muttered, moving his wand over the couple's clasped hands.

Almost immediately, a ring of light appeared around Draco and Hermione's clasped hands, pulsing excitedly as if it could sense the anticipation in the air. The bright circle began to spin slowly, and despite the fact that it shouldn't have come as a shock to either of them, Draco having seen his fair of bonding ceremonies growing up and Hermione having been given an extremely thorough play-by-play the day prior, they both tightened their hold on each other in surprise.

Lucius smiled, the cool steel of his eyes warming ever so slightly as he studied the ring now joining the couple together, before he sheathed his wand and moved back next to his wife. Narcissa, who had, like the others, been entranced by the appearance of the bonding light, leaned into her husband slightly as he re-settled, smiling to herself when she felt him wrap an arm around her waist.

"Marriage is the most sacred of bonds," Harry continued, readjusting his glasses as he spoke. "It is the merging of two souls, of two separate lives, into one. It is an inseverable union through which you must be honest and true with each other in this life and the next. And today, you begin your journey of life shared, forever bound together by the vows of this rite."

"Draco, if you will, repeat after me," Harry said, smiling as he looked up from the book in his hands. "I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, bind myself to you, Hermione Jean Granger–"

"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, bind myself to you, Hermione Jean Granger–" Draco repeated, trying to hold his voice steady despite the longing burning in her eyes.

"– _to learn and grow with, to respect you in everything as an equal partner–_

"–to learn and grow with, to respect you in everything as an equal partner–"

"– _in the foreknowledge of joy and pain, strength and weariness–"_

"–in the foreknowledge of joy and pain, strength and weariness–"

"– _direction and doubt, for all the risings and settings of the sun."_

"–direction and doubt, for all the risings and settings of the sun."

"Hermione, please repeat after me," Harry said, now turning to look at her as he recited the same passage. "I, Hermione Jean Granger, bind myself to you, Draco Lucius Malfoy–"

"I, Hermione Jean Granger, bind myself to you, Draco Lucius Malfoy–" she began, her gaze focused solely on the man in front of her.

"– _to learn and grow with, to respect you in everything as an equal partner–"_

"–to learn and grow with, to respect you in everything as an equal partner–"

" – _in the foreknowledge of joy and pain, strength and weariness – "_

"–in the foreknowledge of joy and pain, strength and weariness–"

"– _direction and doubt, for all the risings and settings of the sun."_

"–direction and doubt, for all the risings and settings of the sun."

Hermione sucked in a breath as the light around their hands began spinning a little faster, and Draco smiled at her as he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Now, please grab hold of your partner's right wrist and repeat the following words as one," Harry said, watching the couple with a strange gleam in his eyes as they re-situated their hands. "You are the blood of my blood, and bone of my bone–"

"You are the blood of my blood, and bone of my bone," Draco and Hermione said together, tears welling in their eyes as the felt the magic of their bond grow with each word spoken.

"– _I give you my body, that we two might be one–"_

"–I give you my body, that we two might be one–"

"– _I give you my spirit, 'til our life shall be done."_

"–I give you my spirit, 'til our life shall be done," they finished in unison, clinging so tightly to one another that if it weren't for the distraction of the ceremony they might have caused each other pain.

The light was now spinning so quickly that it was difficult to make out the shapes of their hands, and Draco and Hermione inhaled sharply as small sparks began to rain down on the ground near their feat.

Harry too was startled by the sudden change in the bonding circle, and it took a not-so-subtle throat clearing from Theo before he came back to himself, remembering that he needed to say the final blessing for the bonding to be complete. "May the merging of your bloodlines bless you with a powerful and everlasting bond. May you delight in each other's love for all your years unto passing. Plant your roots together in the Earth yet play in the gardens of life as children and friends. Share the great mysteries of life and let your spirit be as free as the falcon's flight. Grow old and wise together and share a happy home. From this day forward, you are forever changed."

As soon as the last word left Harry's mouth, the light around Draco and Hermione's hands exploded outward, fragmenting into thousands of tiny glowing spheres. The light hung there, decorating the air around them with a sparkle that mirrored that of the stars in a clear night's sky, illuminating the shocked faces of everyone standing around the couple.

"Uhh, Potter?" Draco whispered out of the corner of his mouth. He was pretty damn sure this part hadn't happened at any bonding ceremony he'd ever been to, and despite the complete and utter awe he felt taking in the beauty of it all, something didn't feel right to him. "What the–"

But he was interrupted when a tendril of light suddenly shot through him, sending an electric shock through his entire body which nearly knocking him off his feet. A tingling exploded inside of him, starting in his chest and extending outward to his fingertips where it only seemed to intensify. He lifted a hand in front of his face, leaving his other wrapped tightly around Hermione's wrist, and gasped inaudibly when he caught sight of his fingers. They were glowing – fucking glowing – as if they were the last remaining embers of a fire, and for a second, he swore he could see something actually coursing through the veins in his hand. Confused, he looked over at Hermione, hoping he had been the only one hit by the light, but found her busy studying the glow emanating from her own fingers.

 _Fuck_ , he thought, and worry flooded very corner of his brain. _What the fuck is going on?_

"Hermione?" he prompted nervously.

"What is this?" she asked in response, her mouth parted in disbelief as she flipped her hand around in front of her face.

Draco shook his head. "I have no fucking idea."

"It– it feels–" but she didn't have the words. She couldn't explain the strange combination of discomfort and delight that was settling into her bones, her body simultaneously fighting to reject and accept the energy that was now coursing through her veins.

"Weirdly nice?" Draco offered, unable to think of anything else to describe what was happening to them.

Hermione nodded in agreement, her bewilderment matching his own.

Draco cast his eyes toward Harry, who was standing perfectly still, his eyes flickering nervously between the couple and his wand now clutched tightly in his hand.

But before he could reassure him that they were fine, before he had a chance to look at anyone else, the light shot out of their bodies, causing both them to cry out in surprise, and began to spin around them more furiously than it had around their hands during the ceremony, blocking their view of everything and everyone around them.

The spinning light sent more sparks into the air, and a strange static settled in around them causing the hair on their heads to raise slightly. Hermione looked frantically over at Draco, her eyes wide with disbelief and confusion. None of it made any sense. The bonding light was supposed to collapse into two sets of rings not explode into whatever madness this was, and neither of them had any idea what to say or do. But then, almost faster than either of them could comprehend what was happening, the spinning around them intensified further, lifting them both off the ground.

"Draco," Hermione managed finally, her voice faltering as she tightened her grip on his hand. She couldn't think of any rational explanation for what was happening, and the fact that they were floating in the air, surrounded by the light that was supposed to have done nothing of the sort, terrified her.

Draco could hear shouting coming from somewhere outside of the circle but ignored it as he focused all of his attention on the woman across from him, all of the color drained from her face as she moved a hand protectively over her swollen belly. He was scared, more frightened than he could ever remember being, but a sudden desire to be closer to Hermione, to feel her entire body against his, washed over him, and despite the chaos surrounding them, he pulled her to him and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

"I don't think it's going to hurt us," he told her suddenly, convinced it was the truth but unable to explain exactly how. "I won't let you go," he promised, bending forward to kiss her.

When their lips met, another jet of light entered them, the shock of which was enough to make them gasp into each other's mouth, but not enough to make them pull away from each other.

Hermione couldn't think, she could barely focus on anything but Draco, her body dizzy with an odd combination of disorientation and longing. Whatever was happening to them, it was making her feel things she had only felt with him when they were alone, igniting heat deep inside of her that only erupted to the surface when he was inside of her, and the way Draco was pushing his body against hers, his hips moving slowly against her, assured her that she wasn't alone. And for a fleeting moment, she forgot to care about the madness surrounding them, about the constant fear they had been living in knowing that someone wanted to hurt her, and even about whatever the light was doing to them at that very moment.

Somehow, after what seemed like an hour, Draco managed to pull himself away and rested his forehead against Hermione's, his breathing heavy as he tried to digest everything that was happening around them. He could hear the raggedness in Hermione's breath, and he brought a hand to the side of her face in attempt to calm her. He was caught in his own thoughts, so lost in the feeling of her body against his, that he didn't even notice that the swirling light around them had slowed until their feet were once again on the ground. It was only when the light disappeared completely, his eyes blinking rapidly at the sudden loss, that he realized it was over.

"Are you hurt?" Draco asked, both of his hands now resting on either side of Hermione's face.

"I– no. No, I'm alright," she replied, her hands shaking as Draco pulled her against him once more, tucking her head underneath his chin.

They stood there for a few moments, willing their heartbeats to calm, before remembering that they had an audience, that people might want to know what was going on.

"What – and I mean this in the most calm and collected way possible – the fuck was that?" Theo said as Draco's eyes landed on him, his wand raised in the air as if he was ready for an attack.

"No idea," Draco replied, shrugging a bit too nonchalantly for the situation. "We're fine by the way, thank you for asking," he added, giving his friend a weak smile.

Theo snorted, but nodded and lowered his wand, seemingly convinced that there was no immediate danger.

"But it– the light– the bond, it attacked you," Harry said, stepping toward the couple with his wand still raised, apparently not as sure as Theo.

"I wouldn't say that it attacked us," Hermione told him, wrapping her hand around Draco's and stepping away from his embrace. "It– well, I don't know what it did exactly, but it didn't harm us. We're okay."

Ginny, who had been standing behind Harry, placed her hand on her husband's shoulder, signaling for him to lower his wand. He complied, but kept it tightly grasped in his hand at his side.

Feeling safer now that his friend's wands were no longer pointing at him, Draco turned back toward Hermione, trying to find the words to explain what it had felt. "It was strange. At first it just felt like a current was running through my body, but then it felt like…" but he didn't really know how to explain the part that came after either.

"Like when you're together… intimately," Lucius offered, his brow furrowed as he studied the couple from his position a few strides away.

Draco turned toward his father. "Yes, but how–?"

" _Le lien_ ," Narcissa murmured, her eyes wide as she looked frantically toward at her husband. "But it can't– I thought it was just a story."

"As did I," Lucius replied, his voice quiet as he brought a hand to his chin.

"What do you mean?" Draco demanded, looking wildly between his parents. "You know what the hell that was?"

"Not exactly," Lucius tried to explain, dropping his hand back to his side. "The line that Harry read about the merging of two bloodlines – my great grandfather used to tell me stories about its origins in our family's vows."

"What. Fucking. Stories," Draco growled, his anger threatening to boil over. "What did you do?"

"Draco," Narcissa said quietly, her hand over her heart. "Let him explain."

Draco took a deep breath, relaxing as he felt Hermione's thumb moving across the top of his hand, before nodding at his father, signaling for him to continue.

"According to your great-great grandfather," Lucius began, putting a hand on his wife's shoulder in thanks, "our family was promised _le lien_ after coming to the aid of William the Conqueror during his successful campaign into England. A gift of sorts for helping a Norman king claim the English throne."

"A bond?" Draco asked, translating the words to English.

Lucius nodded. "Yes," he said, his excitement obvious. "But not just any bond. _Le lien_ was very specific."

Draco opened his mouth to demand that his father tell them just how specific, and fast before he lost it, but Hermione was speaking before he had the chance.

"Wait," she muttered, dropping Draco's hand and taking a step toward his father. "William the Conqueror was a descendent of Rollo, wasn't he?"

Her question seemed to catch Draco off guard, but Lucius smiled, clearly impressed. "Yes," he said simply. "William was Rollo's great-great-great grandson."

Hermione gasped. "But Rollo was…" _Oh god, no._

"A Viking, yes," Lucius supplied.

Hermione nearly choked, her heart beating so fast that she felt like it might jump out of her chest.

 _No_ , she thought. _This doesn't make any sense._

"For fuck's sake," Theo said, throwing his hands in the air. "What is it with you people and the goddamn Vikings?"

Lucius lifted an eyebrow at Theo's words, but remained quiet, his gaze still fixed on Hermione as if he was waiting for something.

On the other side of Draco, Harry began to shake his head. "I don't understand," he said angrily, his arm now wrapped tightly around Ginny's waist. "What does that have to do with anything that just happened?"

"Everything," Lucius said, his voice calm, but his eyes now sparkling with excitement. "My great grandfather used to tell me that our family was promised a bond with the original Norse mage bloodline, the same bloodline that helped William win his war, and that the Malfoy vows had been enchanted to facilitate the bond."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. _Vikings…. Norse mages… there's no way this is a coincidence._

"You mean to tell us that in a thousand years," Draco asked, his eyes fixed angrily on his father, "this bond never took? That today, of all days, it decided to fucking take?"

"I'm afraid you're missing the point," Lucius responded, his eyes flickering back to Hermione as she nervously chewed at the inside of her cheek. "The bond requires the correct two bloodlines," he said, pausing so that his words could resonate. "The bond was never solidified because, until today, a Malfoy had never married a member of the correct bloodline."

"But that would mean–" Hermione began, still not sure she could believe it. "No, I'm Muggle-born."

"Apparently not," Lucius replied, lifting his eyebrows slightly. "My dear, how well do you know your family history?"

"Father," Draco warned, moving an arm protectively around Hermione.

"I– my parents were– they're Muggles," Hermione said softly, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke.

"Are you absolutely certain that no one else in your family could perform magic?" Narcissa asked suddenly, moving to place a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"There was no one," Hermione whispered, unable to look anywhere but the ground. "It was just me."

_Rodolphus told Draco someone was coming for me. What if…_

"How can you be sure what just happened has anything to do with this bond?" Harry asked, interrupting her thoughts. "How do we know that you're telling the truth? That you didn't curse them?"

"My dear boy, do you really think I'd curse my own son?" Lucius asked, unable to hide his irritation.

Harry muttered something under his breath, but Ginny elbowed him hard in the ribs, quickly silencing him.

"Hermione, darling," Narcissa prompted, smartly deciding that there was too much history between the men in the room to allow their conversation to continue. "How do you feel now? Can you sense anything new?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't feel–" she began but stopped abruptly when she realized that wasn't quite true.

There was something there, something at the edge of her mind that had never been there before, and she reached out for it, her innate curiosity silencing that part of her that still didn't want to believe. She threw her consciousness to its limit and felt her mind brush against something flexible and pliant, and before she knew what she was doing, she was pushing against it, her desire to see what was on the other side overriding her fear. The barrier gave way, and she didn't even need to see the color drain from Draco's eyes to know where she was.

_Holy shit._

_Language, Granger,_ Draco quipped silently, recovering surprisingly quickly for someone whose mind had just been invaded. _Of course, you can get past my defenses_ , he mused, outwardly rolling his eyes. _It's not like I haven't spent a lifetime trying to keep people from getting in here or anything._

 _I'm not people_ , Hermione retorted, relishing in the comfort she felt being surrounded by Draco's thoughts. _But this is fucking insane._

 _You're the one in my head_ , he told her, holding back a chuckle. _How did you even get in here?_

 _There appears to be some sort of bridge between our minds_ , Hermione explained.

_Interesting._

Curious, Draco began searching for the connection, and when he found it hiding in the back of his mind, he dove through it, sucking in a breath when he found himself surrounded by a flood of Hermione's thoughts.

"I take that as a yes," Narcissa said, smiling, her hands clasped together below her chin as she looked between the couple who were exhibiting mirrored looks of shock.

 _Draco, what the hell does this mean?_ Hermione asked, too afraid to say it out loud for everyone else to hear.

_I think it means that we fulfilled the bond._

"Okay, this," Theo said, pointing between Hermione and Draco, "is going to need to stop. There are other people here who'd very much like to know what's going on."

Hermione reluctantly pulled back from their connection, shivering at the loss of Draco's consciousness, and smiled weakly.

"It seems that our minds are connected somehow," she told everyone. "We can communicate… telepathically."

"Salazar, is anything ever going to be normal with you two?" Theo jeered, twirling his wand around his fingers before putting it back in his pocket.

"Why have I never been warned about this?" Draco asked, turning toward his father, his anger suddenly bubbling back to the surface. "Why have you never told me about the bond?"

Lucius sighed. "I never believed the stories," he admitted, his voice honest and warm as he looked at his son. "Your great-great grandfather wasn't exactly sane near the end of his life. I thought they were just the ravings of an old man."

"Clearly, they were not," Draco muttered, throwing his head back in annoyance.

"Apparently, you weren't the only one who was kept in the dark," Hermione whispered, fidgeting with the fabric of her gown.

"So, you're descended from some Norse mage," Ginny said, giving her friend a reassuring smile. "William the Conqueror lived a thousand years ago – it's totally possible that the magic in your family was lost a long time ago and that you're the first in generations to possess the ability again. It doesn't mean that your parents were hiding anything from you."

Narcissa nodded. "Yes," she agreed, "It's not common, but squib bloodlines have been known to produce magical offspring."

Hermione knew they were trying to comfort her, but their words didn't ease the sick feeling in her stomach. It was all just too much. _Had her parents known? Had they known who she really was?_

"There is no way this is a coincidence," Harry announced, attempting to flatten the hair on top of his head.

Draco shook his head. "No," he said, his voice cracking as he looked over at his friend. "The curse Rodolphus used, his taunts that someone was looking for Hermione," he paused, cringing at the memory. "No, I agree."

 _Breathe,_ Hermione tried to tell herself. _Just breathe._

Sensing her panic, Draco reached out for her with his mind, surrounding her with his consciousness in an attempt to keep her calm. _I've got you_ , he told her, grabbing her hand. _I'm not going anywhere._

"You think whoever taught Rodolphus how to use the curse, knows something about her heritage?" Hermione heard Ginny ask, relaxing when she realized that Draco wasn't going to sever their connection.

"Probably," Lucius said. "If any of the Norse mage bloodlines still exist, it would make sense that the surviving descendants would want to find each other."

"You say that like they want to invite her to a tea party," Theo said, his irritation obvious. "After what happened to Draco, I think it's pretty fucking clear that the intentions of whoever is looking for her are definitely not friendly."

Lucius opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly went rigid, his eyes glazing over as a sense of warning flooded his veins, and he wasn't the only one. Narcissa, Draco, and Hermione were similarly frozen in their tracks.

"Someone just breached the wards," Lucius said simply, his eyes falling on his son before whipping out his wand. "Whoever it is, they're powerful."

Harry looked at Draco hoping it was just a mistake, but Draco gave him a look that he had only seen a few times before, and he quickly swallowed whatever he was going to say.

"The wards are gone," Draco whispered, dropping his wand out of the pocket in his sleeve as a shiver traveled down his spine.

"Fuck," Harry breathed.

Lucius turned around and began muttering a series of incantations, his wand moving wildly in front of him as he began to build a new shield around the group's position in the garden. Theo, recognizing the spells, quickly pulled out his wand and joined him, while Harry turned to Ginny, quickly whispering in her ear before hurrying over to add his own set of protections.

"Mother," Draco shouted, his voice firm, "get Hermione and Ginny out of here."

Narcissa nodded, her lips pursed as her hand already closed around the Portkey that Draco had given her for this very moment.

"No!" Hermione yelled, her body now trembling with fear. "I'm not leaving you!"

 _You can't make me go_ , she projected into their connection.

"Hermione," Draco began, his face pale. "Please," he begged, moving a hand to the swell of her stomach. "I can't–"

"Get her out of here!" Lucius shouted, threads of platinum hair falling over his face as he risked a glance behind him, his body already positioned for battle. "This shield won't keep whoever this is out for long."

"Granger," Theo said, running over, his black robes flying behind him. "Draco can't protect himself if he's worried about protecting both you and the baby. You have to go."

As much as it hurt, as much as she didn't want to leave, she knew that they were right. Tears began to stream down her face as she looked up at Draco, terrified that this time he wouldn't survive.

"I love you," she told him, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I love you too," he replied, wanting nothing more than to hold her tight and kiss her.

But a sudden explosion near where his father was standing rang out into the air, lurching Draco back to reality, and he quickly pulled away from her.

"Go!" he yelled as he raced toward the noise.

As he ran away, a powerful ripple traveled through the air and the shield around them crumbled. And before Hermione could blink, before she could do something stupid, Ginny was beside her, pushing her toward Narcissa who was holding out a candle stick for each of them to grab on to.

"Portkey," Narcissa said quickly. "It will take us to a safe house."

The two women nodded in understanding and placed their hands around the object. As they were lurched away, the last thing Hermione saw was the four men battling against a single foe. She choked back tears as they were spun away to safety, and when they finally landed, she crumbled forward and vomited on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did promise you that big things would be happening in this chapter, didn't I? And before anyone yanks out their pitchfork over my handling of Hermione's heritage here, I just want to remind everyone that things are not always as they appear. I promise there is a method to my madness!
> 
> I rushed this one out a bit, so apologies for any glaring grammatical errors - I'll be back to clean this chapter up later today. The next update might take a full week, but I will try to get it out sooner if I can. All of your reviews keep me motivated, so keep them coming!
> 
> The wedding vows in this chapter are a combination of lots of different things, including the 'blood of my blood' bit, which is Celtic in origin, and the lines "Noble ancestors…" and "Plant your roots together in the Earth…" which are pulled from an Asatru (a religion that involves worship of ancient Germanic spirits and Gods) ceremony. I'm absolute shit when it comes to writing any sort of declaration of love, so I borrowed quite a bit here.


	24. Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **cw** : Battle scenes and gore ahead. There will be blood.
> 
> Songs – Hysteria by Muse, System Bleed by The Glitch Mob, and Into the Past by NERO

There was no other way to describe what was happening.

It was complete and utter chaos.

What had started as a somewhat coordinated attack, the four men casting a series of spells to block the man's view of the escaping women, had quickly morphed into a kind of battle that could only be described as a disorganized scramble. Unknown curses came flying at the group almost immediately, forcing them almost immediately into more defensive positions, and it wasn't until Draco heard Theo cursing from somewhere on the other side of the lawn that he realized they had all been steered into different locations.

_Clever._

The attacker seemed to move at an impossible speed, blocking spells and flinging curses with a kind of ease that Draco would have thought impossible if it wasn't for the fact that he was there to see it happen. Not even the rain seemed to unsettle him. There was no logical reason that the four of them couldn't subdue a single crazed wizard, and yet, it felt like they were vastly outnumbered. Even more unsettling, perhaps, was the realization that the man didn't seem to require the use of his wand at all. Magic appeared to shoot out of his body in unpredictable ways, especially in the small moments where Draco thought they might have found some sort of advantage, and not a single one of them had managed to get closer than a few yards before being forced to retreat.

It was maddening. Nothing about the man made any goddamn sense.

There had been so many close calls – too many – and Draco knew it was the same for the others; he could see it in their faces each time he managed to catch a glimpse of one of them just as he knew they could see it in his own. Blood was dripping down the side of his face and his leg was screaming in pain, but none of his injuries bothered him as much as knowing that they couldn't keep this up forever. He needed to find a way to kill this fucker, and he needed to do it quickly before any of them toppled off the theoretical knife-edge that they were currently perched on.

Draco sent another, frustratingly unsuccessful, _Confrigo_ toward the man, and it was only by pure luck that he managed to catch the slight movement in the man's hands before another curse came hurdling his way. He ducked, barely escaping a jet of fire that was undoubtedly meant to incinerate him, and responded with a wordless curse of his own, the flash of green from the spell lighting up the air around him. For a fleeting moment, he thought he had finally hit his target, but seconds later, he was forced to dive to his right as an even brighter light came flying back at him. He landed hard on his side and stumbled when he tried to jump back onto his feet, colliding awkwardly with one of the large trees near the edge of the lake.

"Fuck," he groaned as he wordlessly threw up a shield.

Breathing heavily, he risked a glance around him, his eyes straining to find the others through the haze of the battle. He located Harry, who was shooting off an impressive range of attacks, jumping between the large garden rocks some 20 yards away from him. Theo was nearby trying to maneuver his way closer to the attacker, using Harry's rapid fire as a distraction. And while Draco couldn't see his father, he could hear him, his voice bellowing out curses Draco knew could land him back in Azkaban if anyone ever cared enough to investigate.

 _Still alive_ , he reassured himself before he released another sequence of particularly nasty curses, hoping, rather fruitlessly it turned out, that one of them would manage to cause even the slightest bit of damage.

Because, even despite keeping his voice low, even despite attacking while the man's back was turned, not a single one of the spells managed to get anywhere close to the man, and Draco had to cast another _Protego_ to keep himself from being flung backwards into the lake by a powerful vortex of wind. He shivered, the air around him suddenly bone chilling cold, before he spun around and dropped his shield so that he could attack again.

"Volnus," Draco muttered, slashing his wand angrily.

The man brushed the curse aside as if it had been something thrown at him by a child, and turned to face Draco, studying him oddly all while keeping the other three men at bay with a strange, swirling shield that hovered effortlessly behind him. There was an obvious madness in the man's eyes, but it was completely different than the mania Rodolphus had exuded. It was a determined kind of lunacy, primal almost, and Draco shivered again, only this time it had nothing to do with the cold.

_What the fuck is he?_

But honestly, the answer didn't really matter all that much. Draco could still feel Hermione's panic through their bond, and that was fuel enough to carry on. He had known it would come to this. He had known that there was very little chance that he could survive. All that mattered now was keeping the man busy for long enough so that she couldn't be followed.

Draco raised his wand, almost laughing at himself as he sent another hopelessly doomed spell toward the man. Of course, it was blocked easily enough, but in process of directing the curse elsewhere, the man gave something valuable away. A weakness that Draco hadn't noticed before. And yet, there it glaringly was – an obvious tremble in his hands.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind Draco that the man was still human.

And humans bleed.

They could be killed too.

The man was still watching as Draco raised his wand again. There was no surprise in his eyes, not even the faintest hint that he found Draco's persistence anything other than predictable, but he waited somewhat curiously, as if he was truly interested to see what Draco would send his way next.

But before Draco had a chance to open his mouth, an echo sprang through the bridge in his mind, and he had to fight to keep his composure as a single word came into focus. This wasn't Hermione; he would be able to feel her presence if she was there inside his head, but then again, the aurora around the word felt very much like her, as if it was as much a part of her as the unruly hair on top of her head. Instinctually, he latched onto the word, rolling it around in his brain. He knew it was powerful without even having to utter it. He knew it was meant to kill in some horrific way. More importantly, he knew the man would never see it coming, and so he let the word rest on the edge of his tongue for only the briefest of moments before setting it free.

"Bloðorn," Draco repeated, shuddering as a river of unfamiliar magic came charging out of his wand.

The man stumbled backward in surprise, dropping the wards he had been using against the others so that he could throw everything he had into fighting the curse now barreling toward him. His hands moved quickly, conjuring a bright red shield, but he wasn't quite fast enough, and the full force of Draco's curse rammed into the incomplete shield with a spectacular explosion that sent man flying.

Draco was still for a moment, not quite able to believe what he had just done, and it was only after he heard the shouting that he realized he needed to move. He ran toward the voices, his wand raised in front of him as he tried to brace for the carnage that he half-expected to find.

What he found, however, was something else entirely.

In the confusion following the explosion, Harry and Theo had managed to cast a series of binding spells around the man, and as Draco approached, he could see they were still clinging to their wands as they fought to maintain control. Draco spun his wand in the air, adding his own set of ropes to the collection already twisting tightly around the man. Almost immediately, he was overcome with the same sensation that Harry and Theo seemed to be struggling with – a tug of sorts that was threatening to knock him off his feet, and he gritted his teeth, attempting to help lasso the force that none of them could quite wrap their heads around.

It was then that Draco realized someone was missing, and he anxiously cast his eyes away from the group searching for the face of the man he had spent so many years hating. He released the breath he had been holding when he caught sight of his father kneeling on the ground a few yards away, a dazed look on his bloodied face as he tried to push himself up onto his feet.

The relief was brief, however, because that moment's distraction was all the man needed to take back control.

"ENOUGH!" he yelled angrily. A shockwave radiated out from the center of his body as the word left his mouth, slicing through his restraints as if they were nothing more than soft butter and sending the four men careening into the air.

The force of the attack was disorienting, and Draco heard the crash of his head slamming into the hard ground before he actually felt it. The dangerous narrowing of vision was the only warning that he got that something wasn't quite right, and then quite suddenly, pain exploded in the back of his skull. He blinked, trying to reorient himself, but the ringing in his ears was so loud that it was nauseating, and it was a moment before he was actually able to focus on anything around him.

The air was eerily silent, and even without being able to see the others, he knew whatever the man had just done had caught everyone off guard and that they were all, once again, separated from each other. He rolled onto his side, blindly reaching for his wand that had fallen out of his hands when he was tossed backward. Breathing hurt, hell, thinking hurt, and he almost cried out when he felt his hand close around the familiar round edge of his wand. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as if the man had somehow managed to cast a spell that not only physically harmed but also slowed down time, and by the time Draco made it to his feet, he couldn't even be sure that he was really still alive.

"Where is she?" he heard the man say, surprised he could comprehend anything other than the agony settling into his bones. "Where did you send her?"

It took a moment for Draco to realize that the attacker was directing his questions at him, and he blinked furiously, trying to remove the blur form his eyes.

"Who?" he croaked, struggling to steady himself as he straightened the rest of the way upright.

The man laughed, but Draco could sense the panic hidden behind it. "You know exactly who I'm talking about."

"You won't fucking find her," Draco growled in response, his hand curled so tightly around his wand that his nails were drawing beads of blood in his palm.

The man tilted his head threateningly. "Is that what you really think?" he taunted.

From somewhere on Draco's left, a curse flew at the man, but it was redirected with a simple wave of a hand.

"Fuck you," Draco heard someone yell. _Theo_ , he thought.

"None of you have to die," the man tried to reason, keeping his eyes locked on Draco. "All I need is her location."

"Like he said," came another voice from the void. _Harry_ , Draco recognized. "You're not going to find her."

"We'll see about that."

A small twitch in the man's mouth was all the warning Draco had to throw up a shield before a bolt of lightning descended from the sky. The hot electrical charge extended outward, showering Draco with a dizzying wave of energy that, even despite digging his heels firmly into the ground, pushed him easily backward. He grunted as he tried to push back against the attack, clenching his jaw so tightly that he thought his teeth might shatter under the pressure.

_I swear if this mother fucker is some deranged descendant of Thor…_

But he couldn't afford to let his thoughts wander. He was tired – dangerously so, and the slightest distraction was all it would take to overpower him now. It was taking every ounce of his concentration to keep his shield from failing, and he needed to be careful. He needed to hang on long enough for the others to get away. And so he focused on her face, clinging on for dear life as the torrent of electricity continued to push against him.

A strangled yelp suddenly rang out above the static in the air, and Draco fell heavily to his knees, somehow managing to keep his shield in front of him as the air left his lungs. Someone was hurt, and that realization was enough to suck the will to fight right out of him. The subsequent disappearance of the light only confirmed Draco's worst fears, and he dropped his head, defeated.

"Tell me where she is," the man demanded again, "or he dies."

A garbled sob escaped Draco's throat when he lifted his head and saw the face of the body now tied up next to the assailant.

"No," he whispered, raising his wand with a shaky hand, "Theo."

Draco was silent for a moment as he nervously searched for signs of Harry and his father. He found Harry first, blood cascading down the hand he had wrapped around his raised wand. They locked eyes for a moment, nodding quickly at each other before returning their attentions to the standoff at hand. Draco looked back a Theo, his heart beating furiously below his chest, and let out a small sigh of relief when his father stumbled into his periphery, the indignant look on his face obvious even behind the sickly layer of deep scarlet dripping from a wound near his hairline.

"Tell me where she is," the man repeated, aggressively shoving his wand into Theo's neck.

The thick ropes around Theo's body extended all the way over to his mouth, but Draco didn't actually need to hear his friend speak to know what he wanted to say; his eyes said enough.

_Don't you fucking dare._

"Let him go," Draco said finally, wiping the blood from the side of his mouth. "Take me instead."

The man threw his head back and laughed. "You really don't get it do you?"

Draco didn't respond. This was a game he had played once before, and he was determined not to lose twice.

"First," the man continued, seemingly unperturbed by Draco's silence. "I'll kill him," he said gesturing toward Theo, "and then, I'll kill both of them," he said, now pointing between Harry and Lucius. "I'll take everything you care about. I'll take it all away." The man paused, looking pointedly at Draco. "And then what will you have?"

 _Her_ , Draco thought, suddenly more determined than he'd felt a minute ago. _I'll have her. And our child._

"So, I'll ask you again, where–"

But the man never got the chance to finish his question.

A strangely familiar, feminine voice suddenly rang out across the lawn. "DREPA!"

Whoever it was, her sudden appearance had caught the man off-guard, and his eyes widened in shock before he was hit with a blinding surge of light, his body spinning backward into the freezing water of the lake behind him.

"Go!" the voice commanded, this time from somewhere nearby.

Draco turned his head, looking frantically for the new arrival despite every bone in his body telling him to run in the other direction, and he caught sight of a woman racing toward him, her dark curly hair flying behind her. Her voice was so familiar – her hair was too – but he couldn't place it, and so he stood there frozen, waiting for the pieces in his brain to finally click together.

And then they did.

_What the–?_

"I don't have time to explain," the woman told him quickly, catching the confusion on his face. "But you need to go. Now! I won't be able to distract him for long."

Draco simply nodded, tearing his eyes away from her to look around him, frantically looking for any sign of Theo. He could just make out his still form near the edge of the lake, and he was running before he had even formulated a plan. Theo needed him. He wasn't going to leave without him.

So focused on his task, Draco barely even registered the moment the man flew out of the lake, flinging curses at the woman as she danced around the water's edge. He threw up a disillusionment charm, hoping it was enough to hide him until he reached his friend. But he only made it a few yards before a pair of strong arms grabbed him and stopped him in his tracks.

"Draco," he heard a voice say – his father's, he registered somewhat angrily, "we have to go."

"Let me go," Draco growled, struggling to free himself. But suddenly Harry was there, pushing him back.

"He doesn't want this," Harry whispered, somewhat conflicted but resolute in his words, nonetheless. "I promised him that I'd get you out of here if I had the chance."

"No!" Draco shouted, his rage boiling over into a fit of tears. "Let go of me!"

It didn't matter how much he wanted to get to Theo, though. It didn't matter how much he struggled against their hold; he was no match for the combined strength of Harry and his father, especially not in his current state, and he knew he didn't have it in him to curse them so he could get away.

"Draco," Lucius said softly as Draco fell to the ground, "she needs you. Your child needs you."

"He needs me," was all Draco could say in response.

"We'll come back for him," Harry tried to assure him, swallowing heavily.

But Draco wasn't stupid; he knew what would happen once they left. There would be no coming back. At least not until they were sure that they could survive, and who knew how long it would take or how many other people they would need to ensure that the battle could be won. And by then…

"No," Draco gasped, still trying to shove the arms away that were holding him down. "I'm not leaving him!"

"Potter," Lucius began, his voice laden with fear as Draco continued to fight them, "now."

Harry nodded, fighting back tears of his own as he pulled a small tin can out of his pocket and held it out. Lucius grabbed hold on one of Draco's hand and threw it on the on the metal, quickly enveloping it with his own so that he couldn't jerk away.

The pause between feeling the metal under his skin and being whisked away was minuscule – it couldn't have been more than a single second – but Draco screamed so loudly that he almost passed out before the portkey tore them away from the Manor.

* * *

"You," the man said, disbelief still spread across his face.

"Yes, me," Misty told him, smiling somewhat dreamily as she ignored the blood pouring out of her mouth. "You should have killed me when you had the chance."

And he almost had done just that, but something, whatever tiny piece of heart the man still had left, had stayed his hand at the last moment, and he had left Misty crumpled on the floor, seconds away from death but very much so alive.

She hadn't been sure how long she had been asleep when she finally woke up chained to the wall of the basement in the old house, but when she did, she had never been so certain about anything than she had been at that moment. She was done playing his game. His time had been up for far too long.

The man's mistake had been telling her where he was going before leaving the house earlier that day. From there, it hadn't taken her very long to yank her hands out of her bounds, ignoring the searing pain as the sharp metal tore the skin from her hands. She had only paused long enough to heal her wounds and to grab the bottle of tonic she had long ago hidden under one of the floorboards before racing out into the storm.

And now, here she was. Finally, ready for her end.

Her eyes flickered to the man bent forward on his knees next to her, cringing as the images of what undoubtedly awaited him flashed behind her eyes.

_At least the others managed to get away._

"You forgot one," the man said following the line of her gaze. "The blond will come back for him."

Theo lifted his head, enraged at mere mention of Draco, and spat on the ground in front of the man.

"Can't say I won't enjoy torturing you for a bit of information," the man, crinkling his nose in disgust before turning his attention back to Misty. "And you," he continued, still seething, "when I'm done with you, you're going to wish that all I did was torture you."

Misty almost laughed. "You're not in control of me anymore" she told him. In fact, he had no idea what she had swallowed before interrupting his show. She only wished that she could have done the same for the man next to her. "I'll be dead long before you can do anything about it."

And she was right.

The man looked her puzzled, only for realization to settle on his face at the same moment that she collapsed onto the ground in front of him, her body jerking uncontrollably. He didn't even lift a finger to stop it; instead, he watched as bright red froth began to spill out of the sides of her mouth. And when she finally stilled, he merely moved a hand in the air, slicing a long cut along her neck to ensure to job was done properly this time.

It was a quick death, much quicker than he had wanted, but it was death all the same. She wouldn't be making another guest appearance in what was going to happen next.

"Pity," the man said, kicking Misty's limp body to the side, her head rolling directly into Theo's line of sight.

Theo turned his face away from the woman's lifeless eyes, bile rising in his throat as the smell of blood permeated the air around him.

"Now, shall we?" the man asked, roughly yanking Theo to his feet. "We have so much to discuss."

* * *

Hermione had known that an attack was imminent, that it was really only a matter of time before someone came for her, but knowing was lightyears away from understanding what it would feel when it actually happened. And right now, as she was bent forward over her knees on a dusty wood floor, it hurt like hell.

The sickening feeling in her stomach only grew when she realized that she could sense everything Draco was feeling through their bond. She couldn't hear his thoughts, and she didn't dare push her way through barrier lest she distract him from the battle, but she could feel how utterly determined he was to protect her at all costs.

Costs, she knew, that meant he might not make it out alive.

And that realization was all it took for her to be sick all over again.

"Oh, Hermione," she heard Ginny say as she rushed over to her side. The red head paused to tear a piece of fabric off the bottom of her dress. "Here," she said, handing Hermione the cloth so that she could clean herself up.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered after a moment.

Even after calming down enough to assess the difficulties of their situation, she could still feel Draco's emotions swirling around in the back of her head, threatening to consume her. It was difficult to tell where her panic ended and where his began, and the combination was dangerous, almost debilitatingly so. She knew if she didn't do something about it, and quickly, she was at risk of fainting on the floor.

Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and turned her attention inward toward the bond. No one had ever trained her in the art of Occlumency, but she had heard Harry describe it enough to know what she needed to do now. She focused on an image, a single brick, turning it around in her head, imaging the weight of it – imagining how it would feel in her hand before laying it down in front of the bridge connecting their minds. She repeated the process with a second brick, placing it next to the first, and held her breath for a moment as she waited to see if they would hold. When they did, she moved on to a third brick... then a fourth... fifth... so on, until she had constructed an entire wall.

The emotions were still there – she didn't think she'd ever be able to make them disappear entirely – but they were now much more manageable, and she opened her eyes again slowly, shifting her attention to slowing her rapidly beating heart.

"We have to do something," Hermione pleaded once she was able to manage any words at all. "We can't just leave them there," she said looking hopefully toward Narcissa who was now pacing nervously at the other end of the room.

The older witch paused her movements and turned to face her new daughter-in-law, her face exuding a multitude of emotions at once. Despite having been the one to bring them all here, she looked as tormented by the prospect of losing her husband as Hermione was of losing hers, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to agree.

"Please," Hermione begged again, not even bothering to wipe away the few tears that escaped down her cheeks. "I can't just let him die."

Narcissa's eyes flickered over to Ginny, who, despite looking like she was weak enough to topple over onto the floor next to Hermione, quickly shook her head.

"Harry made me promise…" Ginny said.

"Lucius too," Narcissa affirmed, agreeing with whatever the other woman had left unsaid. "But we can't stay here," she added after a moment, making it clear that she wasn't going to let Hermione race head first back into trouble.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, confused. "Why would we leave when they could die? I thought this was the safe house?"

 _We should go back_ , she wanted to say but didn't.

Narcissa pursed her lips together and inhaled sharply through her nose. "It is, but we were never meant to stay here for long," she said quietly, choosing, for the moment, to ignore Hermione's other question. "This place is only safe so long as none of the men are captured and tortured for information." She could barely get the words out. Her husband was in as much danger as her son, and simply uttering the words made her feel sick.

"But–"

"It would be difficult for anyone to find us here but it wouldn't be impossible," Narcissa continued, cutting Hermione off before she could protest. "Official residence or not, it's still tied to the Malfoy family, and someone could figure it out eventually. Draco made it clear that he wasn't willing to take that chance."

"We could go to Grimmauld Place," Ginny suggested, but Narcissa was already shaking her head.

"It's tied to both Harry and me," Narcissa rebutted. "I know it's well protected, but you saw what happened to the wards at Malfoy Manor… it's much too predictable of a choice."

That troubled Ginny, but she nodded quickly in understanding. "So, where then?" she asked, her voice uneasy. Like Hermione, she didn't relish the idea of running away, but there was no point in arguing. She had promised Harry she would keep Hermione safe – if that was something that was even still possible – and she wasn't to make this harder then it needed to be.

"During the war, when Voldemort was using the Manor as his personal residence," Narcissa began, shuddering at the memory "I decided to plan a way to get Draco to safety. I created a portkey, one that scrambles any evidence of magic and set it to a location that I knew no one would be able to find." She paused, catching the slight widening in Hermione's eyes.

"But that– it could have killed you," Hermione said, slightly taken aback. She knew Narcissa was a powerful witch, but this kind of magic was difficult for anyone to control. When she had first started at the Ministry, she was involved in a case where a young witch had inadvertently tied herself to an old shoe when she attempted to create a similar altered portkey. It hadn't ended well for her or for anyone within in a two-block radius.

"Yes," Narcissa said simply, "but I was willing to do anything to save him."

That at least Hermione could understand, and she let Narcissa continue without argument.

"I never told Lucius or Draco my plans, but Draco was always very observant. Apparently, he's known what I had planned all along."

"And now you're supposed to take me to wherever your altered portkey leads?" Hermione asked, not really needing the answer. She knew Draco would have asked his mother to do anything to keep her safe.

Narcissa nodded. "Not directly but yes," she told her, "He knew his thoughts wouldn't be safe if he was caught, and so he told me that I was the only one who'd know what to do once I got here. That's all he really needed to say." Her hands shook slightly as she pulled a large, metal key out of the pocket in her gown and held it out for the two women to see.

"Where does it lead?" Ginny asked, studying the object wearily.

"Nowhere notable," Narcissa explained, a corner of her mouth twitching ever so slightly as an old memory flashed behind her eyes. "Which, I believe, is precisely the point."

Ginny raised an eyebrow questionably. "And you're sure this place is still safe?"

"As safe as it was when I used to sneak away from my family to stay there," Narcissa assured her cryptically.

"What does that even mean?" Ginny asked somewhat angrily, too overwhelmed with the situation to keep her emotions at bay.

For a moment, Narcissa considered telling the fiery red head that she just needed to trust her, but she recognized something in Ginny's face that felt all too familiar – a pain she was trying desperately to hide – and decided that, at the bare minimum, both her and Hermione deserved some sort of explanation.

"I'm sure you are both well acquainted with parts of this story, so I won't dwell on the details, but there are some things that not even Lucius knows," she began, looking between Hermione, who was still kneeling on the floor with a hand restring on the swell of her stomach, and Ginny, who was standing a few paces away with her arms across her chest. "When my parents disowned my sister for marrying a Muggle-born, I was devastated. We were close before she left, and even though I didn't agree with her choices at the time, seeing my family treat her like that…" she let her words trail off, worried the memory would be too much for her to relive, especially right now while her husband was fighting for his life. "My parents threatened me," she continued, taking a deep breath. "They told me that if I had any contact with her, they'd do the same to me. But I loved Dromeda – I still do – and I couldn't stand the thought of never seeing her again."

"You continued to see her, didn't you?" Hermione queried, the pieces falling together. "Somewhere no one would think to look for either of you."

"Yes," Narcissa confirmed, draping an arm across her body so she could use it to cling tightly to the other. "Dromeda managed to find an old abandoned cottage in Shetland, and she fixed it up, turning into a sort of safe haven for the two of us. We met there whenever it was safe for me to get away."

A puzzled look settled onto Ginny's face. "But you still agreed with your parents? About blood purity?"

"Yes, for the most part," Narcissa offered in response, the embarrassment of speaking about her past beliefs long since gone. "I was raised to believe that Muggles were a threat to our way of life, but after Dromeda left to be with the man she loved, giving everything up in the process, I was conflicted." She paused taking another calming breath. "If I had fallen for someone else, perhaps my life would not have been so different from hers. But in the end, I fell for a pureblood, one who believed wholeheartedly that Muggles were a threat to our world and one whom my parents adored, and I was swept up in the same blood purity nonsense that Dromeda had fled from."

Hermione was listening to the story intently, mindlessly rubbing small circles over her stomach. It was calming to be so invested in something else, even if only for a moment, and so she tried to keep her focus on Narcissa's voice.

"We continued to see other, even after I married Lucius, but the meetings become more and more unpleasant, especially when Voldemort first came to power," Narcissa explained, cringing slightly. "And then, when I found out I was pregnant with Draco… well, it wasn't just my life on the line anymore, and I decided to cut off all contact."

Both Ginny and Hermione were quiet, trying to fit this version of Narcissa into what they had come to believe about her past self.

"You asked me if I'm sure the place is still safe," Narcissa said, turning to look at Ginny. "Well, if you trust the word of Andromeda Tonks then I can assure you that it is," her voice was barely above a whisper now. "She promised me that she'd keep it in case I changed my mind. She always knew that I'd find my way to back to her, even when I was convinced that it would never be possible. She never gave up on me."

"That's–" Hermione began but was halted by a heaviness in the back of her throat.

"Beautiful," Ginny finished for her. "I don't suppose it's in better shape than this place?" she added after a moment, risking a bit of humor as she eyed the filth on the floor below them.

Narcissa chuckled softly, and for the briefest of moments forgot about the danger facing both themselves and the men fighting to protect Hermione. "I guess we'll find out," she said sweetly, offering out her hand to pull Hermione off the ground. "Shall we?" she asked, holding out the key the key again.

Hermione nodded, placing her hand over one end of the key, her fingertips grazing the soft skin on Narcissa's wrist. Ginny followed suit, placing her hand on the other end of he key, the tips of her own fingers resting over Hermione's hand.

Narcissa piled her other on top so that the ket and the two women's hands were sandwiched between her own. "Ready?" she asked, looking between them.

"Ready," Hermione and Ginny said together.

"Vado," Narcissa muttered, initiating the Portkey. And the world began to spun around them at an incomprehensible speed.

Hermione never seemed to get used to feeling of being jerked from one place to another, and so this part was always disorienting. However, the way in which Narcissa had altered the Portkey seemed to magnify that feeling, and Hermione slammed her eyes shut, praying that it would be over soon.

Thankfully, it was. And a soon as they landed, they were overcome with the smell of sweet, salty air.

Hermione opened her eyes slowly and was quickly relieved to see that they had all made it one piece.

"Wow," Ginny said, stepping away from the group to take in their new surroundings.

Hermione followed her friend's gaze, and suddenly the change in the air made perfect sense. The cottage that Narcissa had taken them to was perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the ocean below. The view out of the window they had landed in front of was spectacular, even in the dim early evening light, and Hermione found herself entranced, listening to the soothing sounds of the waves crashing into rock as she watched the murky water dance below.

"I can see why you liked coming here," Hermione said, brushing her fingers along the panes of the window.

"Yes," Narcissa said, smiling softly. "It's a bit small for three, but we'll make do," she noted, her body already relaxing in the familiar surroundings. "You're standing in the study slash living area – Dromeda and I could never quite agree on what to call it, so we always just called it both," she paused, chuckling at the memory. "The kitchen is behind you," she continued. "And there are two bedrooms and a bathroom down the hall."

"I'll get some tea started," Ginny announced, moving away from the windows into the kitchen.

"And I think I'll go transfigure this," Hermione said, reluctantly turning away from the window as she gestured weakly at her wedding gown, "into something a bit more practical."

Narcissa nodded in understanding. "There should be towels in the bathroom if you'd like to bathe," she said softly, recognizing Hermione's need to be alone.

"Thank you," Hermione muttered before making her way quickly down the hall.

But the dress was just a ruse. The wall she had built to contain Draco's emotions was already threatening to come down, and it wasn't fair for Ginny and Narcissa to have to deal with that again. They had as much to lose as she did, and so she hurried toward the bathroom, hoping that once she was there, she could find a way to manage the emotions poised to drown her in sorrow.

She turned the corner into the bathroom but stopped abruptly in the doorway. Something didn't feel right. Something was painful, and yet... not. She brought her hand to the back of her head, trying to tease out the meaning of the feeling she had, but she couldn't figure it out.

Breathing heavily now, she moved her body in front of the sink, catching her tired reflection in the mirror. She looked haunted as if her body understood something her brain hadn't caught up to yet, and that scared her. She didn't like not being able to understand what was happening to her, and panic quickly replaced her frustration. Her alarm grew until it the dam she had built broke, releasing a torrent of Draco's emotions into her mind. It was _him_ , but it was still too much – she was drowning, and she clung to the edge of the sink, holding on for dear life

And then suddenly, just when she thought it couldn't get any wore, a bone-chilling scream rang out in her mind.

_Oh god, Draco._

No longer worried about distracting him, she threw herself at the barrier in her mind, desperately hoping that she had imagined the noise, but found the way blocked, almost as if…

_No._

She reached out for something, anything to keep her upright. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.

_No, he can't be…_

And then, a sharp pain exploded in her abdomen, and her legs give out underneath her.

_No, Draco!_

She hit the ground hard as the world began to spin around her.

Having heard the crash from the other room, Narcissa came racing into the bathroom, her eyes frantically searching for the source of the noise, and when she caught sight of Hermione on the floor, blood soaking through the delicate white fabric below her stomach, the color quickly drained from her face.

"Hermione!" she screamed, racing to the witch's side.

Ginny followed moments later, her eyes widening at the horror of the scene in front of her.

"Hermione, darling," Narcissa said, trying to hide the panic in her voice as she moved Hermione's head into her lap, "I need you to stay awake." She paused, brushing some of the witch's curls to the side. "There you go," she said soothingly as Hermione's eyes blinked open. "It's going to be alright. Stay with me."

"It hurts," was all Hermione managed to say in reply, a dazed look in her eyes. She tried to bend her head forward, her eyes searching for the source of the pain, but Narcissa stopped her.

"I know it does," Narcissa said, her worried eyes flickering momentarily to Ginny who was still standing frozen in the doorway.

Hermione moaned as another sharp pain radiated from her abdomen. "The baby," she mumbled somewhat incoherently as her eyes fluttered shut.

"Fuck," Narcissa swore, eyeing her wand which had rolled just out of her reach onto the floor. "Ginny, I need you to hold her," she instructed.

But Ginny didn't move. "There's so much blood," she croaked as her eyes glazed over. "What's happening?"

"She's hemorrhaging," Narcissa explained, her voice shaking as she spoke, "I'm not skilled enough with healing spells to stop it on my own, and I need to send a Patronus before it's too late."

"How–?" Ginny began but Narcissa cut her off.

"Ginny, please," she said, begging now, "She needs you."

Something seemed to finally click in Ginny's brain, and she dropped to the ground next to Narcissa, taking Hermione's head into her lap.

Free, Narcissa hastily grabbed her wand and pushed herself off the floor. It had taken her years to learn how to conjure a Patronus, but she had never actually needed to use one until now, and she hoped she'd be able to hold it together long enough to send one. Her hands were still shaking as she focused on the only memory that she knew could call something so pure and quickly muttered the words to the spell.

Sparks sputtered from the end of her wand, falling to the ground before they were able morph into anything, and she swore at her failure before taking a deep breath and trying again. She almost shouted the words the second time around, and when she saw a familiar shape appear in front of her, she cried out in relief.

"Dromeda, please, I need you," she spoke softly to the silver bear that was hovering in front of her. "She's dying. They're both dying. I have them in the place we love so much. Please, come quickly."

She didn't dare say anything else in case her message was intercepted but hoped it was enough for her sister to understand that it was an emergency, that she wouldn't have bothered her otherwise, and she watched silently until the form disappeared from view.

"No!" Ginny screeched suddenly, the terror in her voice enough to shatter whatever bit of hope Narcissa had been clinging to. "She's not breathing!"

 _Merlin, help us_ , Narcissa thought before reciting every single healing charm she could think of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this one took a lot of wine. I do hate that I have to leave you on this cliff, but it couldn't be helped. The next few chapters are going to be a doozy, so if this one was hard for you gore-wise, I'd probably recommend that you stay away.
> 
> Shoutouts this chapter go to some more exceptionally dedicated reviewers: msbellifurnasty, drea10, and Panalegs27. Special SO to LarryFND (AO3) whose "Fuck Me!" comment had me laughing out loud in the middle of a very serious work meeting – if that doesn't teach me to remember to mute myself on Zoom, nothing will.
> 
> As with this one, I promise to get you the next chapter as soon as possible, but it probably won't be until at least Wed of next week.
> 
>  **Translations** :
> 
> volnus (latin) ~ wound, blow, scratch, slash, disaster, gash
> 
> vado (latin) ~ go, hasten, advance, proceed, rush, haste
> 
> drepa (old norse) ~ kill, slay; strike, smite
> 
> Bloðorn (old norse, ð = 'th') ~ blood-eagle


	25. Inheritance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **cw** : As with the last one, there's a bit of blood and gore below. And while we're at it, let's just apply this warning to the next couple chapters as well.
> 
> Songs – Bottle Tops by RITUAL and Mononoke, You Are The Reason by Klasey Jones, and I Found by Amber Run

A pair of warm brown eyes were hovering over her. A voice was promising her that she was going to be alright. She didn't know if they belonged to the same person. Or if she was imagining it all. It certainly felt like a dream.

She was trying to fight the heaviness in her eyes, to wake up from whatever nightmare she had fallen into, but she was so tired. Too tired.

And was that pain real or was she imagining that too?

Someone was calling to her, someone who sounded far away. They were frantic. She tried to call back, but the room around her was spinning, and she couldn't focus. _Help_ , she wanted to say but couldn't find the strength to open her mouth.

She blinked, rolling her head to side as she reached her hand out, her fingers grasping wildly in the air until a warm hand moved around them.

 _I've got you_ , she thought she heard someone say.

It wasn't the voice she wanted. It didn't belong to the person she needed, but she couldn't speak; she could barely think. The pain was too much, consuming every inch of her body. And it was only then that she realized she was screaming.

When had she started screaming?

She felt frozen, completely unable to control anything happening to her, and it was unsettling. She needed to know what was going on. She needed to know what was happening to her. She needed…

But a strange calm washed over her as she heard a sharp cry.

And then another one.

She smiled, even though she didn't quite understand why.

_Hermione, no!_

And then there was only darkness.

* * *

Draco didn't even bother bracing for the impact as the portkey spit them out. When they landed, his legs gave way underneath him, and he carelessly dropped his wand as he fell to the ground. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a silent inventory of the parts of his body now screaming in pain as he sat bent forward over his knees. He took note of every single grisly laceration, every broken bone, almost relishing in how they burned through his nervous system, but he really didn't give a damn about his bodily injuries. They were minuscule compared to how it felt knowing that he was now responsible for the death of someone he loved.

He threw a fist angrily into the floor below him, the force of the impact triggering the tell-tale snaps of bones being broken, but he didn't even flinch.

"Draco," he heard someone say. He didn't care who said it. He wanted to tell them to fuck off.

It was supposed to be him. It wasn't supposed to be anyone but him. They had all refused to listen. And now Theo…

"Draco," he heard again, this time lifting his head and catching Harry walking toward him somewhat hesitantly.

"Don't," he growled angrily, his eyes dark with grief and rage. "Don't fucking tell me it had to be done."

Harry pursed his lips together and looked over at Lucius, who was slumped against the wall on the other side of the room, his porcelain skin barely visible below the muddled mess of mud and blood that was covering most of his body.

"He would have killed you," Harry said quietly, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the blood dripping to the ground next to him from the wound he had yet to heal on his hand. "Theo made me–"

"I don't care what Theo made you promise," Draco snapped, pausing to wipe the blood away from the side of his mouth. "We left him to die. How can you fucking live with that?"

Harry didn't respond, not because he didn't want to but because he didn't trust his voice to hold if he did. He knew very well what fate Theo likely faced, and the mere thought of what he would likely have to endure made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"He'll torture him. And then he'll kill him," Draco hissed, filling the silence. "I could have saved him," he added, choking back a sob. "Why didn't you let me save him?"

"Son," Lucius said, speaking for the first time, his voice coming in between ragged breaths as he attempted to push himself upright. "Theo knew the risks. We all did," he paused, his eyes flickering over to Harry. "There was nothing else we could do."

"We could have gone after him," Draco said, now glaring at his father. "We could have done something… anything."

 _It's all my fault_ , he thought.

"Draco," Lucius began again, "We couldn't risk losing you too." He stopped, wishing he could find the words to comfort him, to make him understand just how miraculous it was that any of them, especially Draco, had gotten away at all. "Hermione needs you. We should go to her now," he finished softly, hoping it was enough to get Draco to remember why they had all risked their lives in the first place.

Draco closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "We won't be able to find them now," he said after a moment, trying to swallow the boiling hot anger and guilt still churning in his stomach.

"What do you mean 'won't be able to find them'?" Harry asked, confused, looking up from the wound on his hand that he had been trying to heal.

"I don't know where they are," Draco rephrased.

"I made the bloody portkey," Harry asserted, his voice anything but calm. "The place exists. Therefore, we can travel to it."

"They won't be there," Draco told him, finally grabbing his wand and pushing himself up onto his feet. "My mother– I instructed her to take Hermione somewhere else." He glanced at his father again, catching a slight upturn in the corner of his father's mouth.

"Well then why the fuck can't we go somewhere else?" Harry asked, his panic at not being able to locate his wife or best friend growing beyond his control and his wound now completely forgotten. "Where the fuck are they?"

Lucius nearly laughed, letting out a breathy sigh as he shook his head. "I knew she wasn't telling me something," he noted, not even attempting to hide the amusement in his voice. "That woman is sly."

Harry looked between father and son, his fists curled into tight balls at his side. "Who?" he queried, exacerbated. "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?"

"It appears that Draco only trusted one person with Hermione's final location," Lucius explained, studying his son with a kind of admiration normally reserved for his prized peacock collection. "And he wasn't that person."

Harry brought a hand to his face and closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly for a few moments to calm himself. "You don't know where they are," he said, opening his eyes to look over at his friend.

Draco nodded, his mouth twisted into an uncomfortable frown. "I couldn't take the chance," he said, looking at Harry apologetically. "I knew that if one of us got caught–" he swallowed heavily as Theo's eyes flashed behind his eyes "–if one of us got caught the information could be tortured out of us. Only my mother knew where they were going."

Harry sucked in a breath and blew it out roughly. "Are they safe?" he asked finally, struggling to get a hold of himself. "Can they be found?"

"They're as safe as they can be," Draco replied, giving him the only promise that he knew he could. "For now," he added, his voice cracking as the words left his mouth.

His mother wouldn't have taken the task lightly. She certainly wouldn't have planned to send Draco anywhere he could have been easily discovered during the war, and so he at least had faith that wherever the women were, it wouldn't be easy to find. But nothing the attacker had done so far had been predictable (or normal), and so there was no telling how safe Hermione or any of the women really were.

"We need to find them," Harry said simply, his thoughts clearly aligned with Draco's.

"I don't know if we can," Draco replied sadly, shaking his head as the words left his mouth. "If the place is as well-hidden as I think it is–"

"We have to try," Harry replied quickly, cutting Draco off. "That fucker…" His words trailed off as images from the battle swirled around in his head.

"I've never seen anything quite like it," Lucius admitted. And coming from him, that meant something. "I agree with Potter," he continued, tilting his head toward his former enemy. "We can't just sit here and hope they won't be found."

Draco sighed. It wasn't that he didn't agree with them – he wholeheartedly did – it was that he didn't even know where to begin. He had purposefully refused to talk to his mother about her plans, and she, knowing how important it was that he not know, hadn't told him anything except to assure him that Hermione would be safe.

"Did mother ever tell you about a place she had been, somewhere she would have gone to be alone?" Draco asked his father, knowing how unlikely it was that she had.

Lucius shook his head. "Narcissa and I didn't keep much from each other," he replied, grimacing as he dropped his body down into one of the rickety wooden chairs in the corner of the room, "but she certainly had her secrets, and I doubt she would have taken Hermione somewhere that I knew about."

Draco nodded briskly in understanding. He had expected as much.

"We can't risk sending a Patronus. Ours are too recognizable," he said, gesturing between Harry and himself before pausing to crudely heal the cut still bleeding near his hairline. "An owl would be too dangerous, especially if the place is hidden with magic."

"Nothing on them is trackable either," Lucius added, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. "I normally insist that Narcissa keep something on her that would allow me to find her in an emergency, but–"

"The bond!" Harry said suddenly, looking frantically at Draco. "Can you still contact Hermione through your bond?"

Draco paled. He had tried so hard to ignore the emotions emanating from Hermione during the battle that he hadn't even recognized their absence when he had landed in the safe house. How could he have forgotten about that goddamn bond?

 _Fuck_ , he thought. _Why can't I feel anything now?_

Panicked, he threw himself at the barrier in the back of his mind, desperately hoping that the absence of her emotions simply meant either that she had calmed down enough to keep from spilling into his mind or that they were far enough a part that their connection had dulled. Unfortunately, what he found – or rather, what he didn't – nearly stopped his heart.

He let out a strangled cry, his thoughts screaming for her as he waded through the darkness on the other side of their bond searching for anything that would let him know that she was still alive. But there was nothing but bone chilling stillness.

_Hermione!_

He was frantic. Why couldn't he feel her thoughts? Why couldn't she hear him calling to her?

_Hermione, please, it's me._

Nothing.

And then, just when he was about to succumb to the panic threatening to consume him, a face appeared. It was familiar and yet… but it was gone before he could place it.

"Draco," he heard Harry say. "What's wrong?"

 _Hermione_ , he tried calling again. But still, she didn't answer. _No. NO!_

He saw the face again, and the image stayed long enough for him to realize who he was looking at.

"Harry," he said, speaking quickly as he tried to keep the bile from spilling out of the back of his throat, "we need to get to Andromeda's. Now."

* * *

"Had enough yet?" the man asked, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

Theo spat, watching with heavy eyes as blood splashed onto the ground in front of him. "Is that really the best you've got?" he goaded dangerously.

Anger flashed in the man's eyes, but he didn't move. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" he asked, resisting the urge to retaliate.

"Every day," Theo replied almost casually, meeting the man's icy gaze with surprising ease.

"You aren't scared," the man observed curiously. "Why is that?"

Theo snorted. "What? You want to know my whole life story?" he retorted, strangely unperturbed by the amount of blood falling down the side of his face. "Kind of difficult to scare someone with torture when their own childhood was exactly that."

"No," the man said, squatting so he could study Theo more directly. "That's not it."

The man's gaze was certainly unsettling, especially up close, but there was something there, a hint of uncertainly and terror perhaps, which Theo might have found quite useful if he wasn't chained up against a bloody wall.

"What are you, my shrink?" Theo quipped, shivering slightly as his body fought to keep itself warm.

The man laughed. "You know," he began, turning his head slightly to the side as he threw a finger under Theo's chin to lift his head. "In any other circumstance, I might have found you quite charming. It's a pity really that I have to kill you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Have my manners been lacking?" Theo said, rolling his eyes despite the sharp pain in the back of his head. "My deepest apologies."

The man laughed again, moving his hand away from Theo's face. "On second thought, I think I will enjoy killing you."

"You've already searched my memories," Theo reminded him, tired of whatever game the man was trying to play with him. "I don't know where she is. So just fucking get on with it."

The man stood up silently, wiping his hands on his robes as he turned to face the wall. "Perhaps you're right," he conceded, picking something off the table next to him. "But first, I think I'll use you to send a message."

Theo's eyes widened when the man turned around, the dull light flickering off the metal in his hands. _Fuck_.

"Scared now?" the man asked, smiling diabolically.

* * *

Draco and Harry landed in a familiar living room, their wands already raised in front of them. They hadn't wanted to leave Lucius behind, but when it became obvious that his injuries were more serious than any one of them had realized, they made the quick decision to leave him at the old house, promising to come back for him as soon as they could.

_"I'll be fine," Lucius had said, waving a hand in the air._

_"But–" Draco had begun, torn between the guilt of leaving someone else behind and finding Hermione._

_"Just go," his father had insisted. "You're wasting time."_

And so it was just the two of them.

"Did you see where she was?" Harry asked quietly, positioning himself so that their backs were facing each other as they canvassed the room.

Draco shook his head. "I just saw her face," he replied quickly, his eyes nervously scanning the space in front of him. It was empty, but he could see a small figure flying around on a broom outside.

 _Teddy_ , he realized. _She can't be far if he's here._

"Teddy's outside," Draco added quietly, glancing over his shoulder.

Harry tensed slightly but nodded and tipped his head to his right, motioning for Draco to follow him toward the kitchen. As much as he wanted to rush out to his godson, he knew it wasn't the time.

They moved quietly across the room, carefully avoiding the Legos and other small toys strewn about the floor, but it was the creaky floorboard next to the couch that were their undoing.

"Who's there!?" a voice called before they managed to make it past the fireplace.

"Molly?" Harry said, dropping his wand. He didn't even pause before rushing the rest of the way into the kitchen.

"Molly, what are–"

"Oh, Harry! Thank goodness you're alright," she nearly shouted, rushing to suffocate him in a hug. "Arthur just owled and said the Manor had been attacked. They weren't sure if anyone had managed to escape," she paused, inhaling sharply when she noticed a battle-worn Draco hesitating near the doorway. "What happened?"

"We don't have time to explain," Harry began, lifting a still bloodied hand in the air. "Molly, where is Dromeda?"

Molly looked back at Harry, her brows furrowed in concern over the state of the two men. "I don't know," she admitted after a moment. "She called me through the Floo about an hour ago and asked if I could come watch Teddy. She said it was an emergency," she paused, glancing at Draco again as he swore under his breath. "She didn't tell me where she was going."

"What kind of emergency?" Draco whispered not entirely sure he was ready for that answer.

"She didn't say, but I could tell it wasn't good," Molly replied, looking between the two men again. "What's happened? Are Ginny and Hermione alright?"

Draco fell back against the wall, his hand clutching his chest as a sob escaped his lips.

"Draco," Harry began, ignoring Mrs. Weasley's questions as he hurried to his friend's side. "What else did you see when you looked through the bond?"

Draco shook his head, his pupils blown wide with panic. "Nothing," he said, whimpering now. "I only saw Dromeda… and then I couldn't see anything at all."

Harry swallowed heavily. _Shit._

"Molly," Harry said quickly without turning away from Draco. "Take Teddy to the Burrow. Send an owl to Kingsley and tell him to get everyone away from the Manor. It's not safe."

Molly nodded. She hadn't lived through two wars without learning a thing or two about knowing when to just shut up and listen, and she could tell by Harry's tone that now wasn't the time for questions – she would do as he asked and quickly.

She was reaching for her wand when a crack suddenly echoed from somewhere upstairs causing her to jump in surprise.

"Do you know who that is?" Harry asked, whipping his head around.

Molly quickly shook her head, her fingers trembling around the end of her wand.

"Go now before Teddy comes back inside," Harry said firmly, raising his wand as he eyes bore into the ceiling above.

Molly nodded her understanding, pausing only to squeeze Harry's free hand before hurrying out the back door.

"The sound came from the bathroom," Harry said, resisting the urge to turn and watch until Teddy and Molly were safely away. Instead, he turned to face Draco, who despite his panic, had managed to pull himself away from the wall, his eyes darting around as if he expected someone to appear in front of them at any moment.

"I'll go," Draco said reflexively, but Harry was already shaking his head.

"If it's him, he'll use you to get to her," he said, giving little thought as to what would happen to him if it was the man who had attacked them earlier.

"I am not doing this again," Draco growled, attempting to push his friend aside. "I will not let another one of you die."

"This not up for debate," Harry replied impatiently, locking his arms out against Draco's body. "Let me go."

There was an almost murderous glint in Harry's eyes, and Draco only had to stare at him for a brief moment before accepting that this wasn't an argument he could win. At least not quickly, and they couldn't afford to waste any more time. "You have thirty seconds, Potter," he told him, reluctantly dropping his arms and stepping out of Harry's way. "That's it."

Harry mouthed his thanks and turned to ascend the stairs behind him, careful to avoid the creaky step at the top of the stairs that had been the bane of his existence when Teddy had been little. He moved quickly down the hallway, and when he made it to the bathroom, he paused, somewhat puzzled by the sounds emanating from behind the door. It sounded like someone was... pulling things off the shelves? Shaking his head, he kicked open the door, sucking in a breath when his eyes landed on someone he was sure should be somewhere else.

"Narcissa?"

The witch jumped, nearly dropping the vials that were piled in her arms. "Harry!" she exclaimed when she realized who it was, "How did you– what are you doing here?"

"Draco saw–" but he stopped when he noticed all of the blood. "Are you hurt?" he asked, taking a step toward her, his arm outstretched as if he he meant to heal her.

Narcissa followed his gaze to her blood-stained gown and quickly shook her head. "It's Hermione," she told him, knowing she didn't have the privilege of time to be delicate. "She went into labor. It's not– she's dying. I need to get these to my sister."

Harry blinked. "Dying?"

_Fuck._

"What about Hermione?" came a raspy voice from the doorway.

"Draco!" Narcissa nearly shouted, the relief obvious in her voice as her son moved into the room.

"What happened to Hermione, mother?" Draco demanded, not even bothering to fight the tremble in his voice. "And don't lie to me. Is she dead?"

"No," Narcissa replied, her voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, "but she will be if I don't get this to her."

_She's alive._

"Take me," Draco said, stepping further into the room, his eyes pleading with her. "Please."

Narcissa glanced at Harry, who was similar dazed, before quickly conceding with a nod. There wasn't time to reason with either of them or explain; she'd just have to risk taking them with her. She finished emptying the cabinet next to her and threw the vials into one of her pockets before lifting her arms for both men to grab onto.

"Follow me," she said as Draco and Harry each intertwined a hand with one of her own.

* * *

Theo knew that the screams belonged to him. He knew the pool of blood on the ground belonged to him, or rather, it had. He knew he was in pain – more than he had ever endured at the hands of his father – but there wasn't much of a point in caring anymore. It would be over soon, and then nothing he knew would matter anymore.

It certainly wouldn't be a quick death. It would be painful and slow, and maybe he would even beg for the end before it was all over. But he wasn't scared. Not even a little bit. It was simply a relief to finally know how he would go.

The man, it seemed, had failed at least one thing tonight.

His head now hung helplessly against his chest, but he didn't bother attempting to lift it. There was nothing to see, no one to reach out to. They weren't coming for him; he would have been angry if they did. There were things more important than him, more valuable than the pitiful life he had led, and he was simply content to retreat into the part of his brain where he could be surrounded by the few good memories that he possessed.

He never imagined that he'd have people to care about. He always thought he'd be alone. But then Draco had waltzed back into his life, dragging Hermione with him, and things had never been quite the same. He'd found a family of his own, even if only for a short time, and that was enough.

 _You fuckers better name him Theo_ , he thought, oddly comforted despite feeling the life slowly drain out of him. _Or I_ _'ll haunt you for the rest of your perfect little lives._

* * *

Narcissa hadn't warned him when they landed in the small cottage, but Draco knew by how quickly she had dropped their hands and ran down the hallway that things were bad. He followed her, not even bothering to look around him, and when he turned the corner into the small room at the end of the hall, he nearly choked at what he found.

Hermione was sprawled unconscious on the bed, her curls draped almost angelically on the pillow behind her head, while Andromeda moved furiously around her, waving her wand so quickly that her hand seemed to melt into the air. If he hadn't looked away from Hermione's face, if he hadn't caught the sickening scent in the air, he might have thought she was simply sleeping, but he had. And there was so much blood – too much – and it took every ounce of his remaining strength to not crumple to the floor.

"I grabbed all of them," he heard his mother say, but he couldn't drag his eyes away from his wife.

She looked so… pale.

"Draco," Harry said softly, trying to pull his friend back into the hall with shaky hands, "you should wait outside."

"No," Draco replied, instead taking another step into the room, a floorboard creaking under his feet.

Andromeda turned her head at the noise and frowned at the sight of her nephew. "Narcissa," she said, her eyes flickering back to her sister. "Take him outside. I need to–"

"I'm not leaving her," he said quietly, not bothering to let her finish.

But she wasn't listening. She had already turned back around, her fingers fumbling through the pile of vials now sitting on the end of the bed.

"Draco," Harry said again, yanking him backward. "Dromeda will take care of her."

"I can't leave her," he repeated stumbling as he tried to wiggle out of Harry's grasp. "I can't leave her like this."

"Draco," Narcissa said, moving so that she was blocking his view of the room. "Dromeda needs to focus, and you need to see–"

But a small cry from somewhere outside interrupted her.

"What was that?" Draco asked, his heart not quite able to believe what his brain was telling him.

Narcissa looked at him with tears in her eyes. How could she possibly tell him something so wonderful when something so terrible was causing him to fall apart in front of her? But she had to tell him. He needed to know. "Your son," she said finally.

The color drained from his face. "My... son?"

"Ginny has him outside," Narcissa explained, her eyes flickering to Harry who was similarly stunned by the news. "We will take care of her," she added, gesturing toward Hermione as Andromeda began to mutter a new series of incantations. "Right now, your child needs you."

But Draco gently pushed his mother aside so that he could see Hermione again. He couldn't leave her. He wasn't sure that he had the strength to walk away from her knowing that he may never get to see her alive again.

"Draco," Narcissa began again, placing a hand on his shoulder as if she could read his mind, "go to your son."

_Son._

It was such a simple word, and yet, hearing it again was enough to pull him back to reality, and he nodded slowly.

"If you can't– if there's nothing you can do, I need to– I need to say goodbye," Draco muttered, his bottom lip trembling as she spoke.

"I will call for you," Narcissa promised him.

Reluctantly, Draco backed out of the room, only tearing his eyes away from Hermione when he heard another small cry. And before he could comprehend what he was doing, he was running, his heart beating furiously as he tore through the small kitchen and threw open the back door.

He could see Ginny standing a few yards away, her head bent over something in her arms, and in an attempt not to startle her, he slowed his movements somewhat as he approached.

"Ginny?" he called when he was only a few paces away, his voice so quiet that he was sure she hadn't heard him.

But she did, and when she turned, she gasped audibly in surprise.

"Oh, thank Merlin," she said, her eyes flickering between Draco and the figure that had followed him outside.

Draco took another few steps, closing the remaining distance between them, his eyes locked on the small bundle that Ginny was holding tightly in her arms.

"It's a boy," Ginny said, smiling as she followed Draco's gaze. "Here," she continued, a tear falling down the side of her face as she motioned for Draco to take his son from her. "He's beautiful."

"Beautiful," Draco repeated absently as he positioned the swaddled infant in his arms. He watched in awe as his son scrunched up his face, seemingly upset at the sudden change in environment, before yawning and quickly relaxing into the new warmth.

_My son. Our son._

Draco was entranced. He brushed a hand over his baby's head, his fingers tingling as they moved over the few strands of soft platinum blonde hair.

"Beautiful, just like his mother," he murmured, unable to look away.

Ginny moved next to Harry, wrapping a hand around his as she wiped at her eyes with the other. "He's a fighter," she announced, as enthralled with watching Draco with his son as she had been when Harry had held their children for the first time. "He came out kicking and screaming," she explained, torn between wonder at the child's birth and horror at Hermione's condition. "Dromeda was surprised he was able to breath on his own, but she couldn't find anything wrong with him, so she had me take him away from the madness inside."

"He's so small," Draco muttered, his heart swelling as a small fist suddenly clamped down on his finger.

"But he's strong," Ginny assured him. "I guess he just decided that he was grown enough to finally make his grand entrance."

Draco's heart was still beating furiously as he watched his son fall back to sleep in his arms. His cheeks were perfectly round and rosy, just like his mother's, but his mouth was closed in the type of natural smirk that couldn't belong to anyone but a Malfoy. It was everything, being able to hold him in his arms, and yet...

"Will she survive?" Draco asked suddenly, looking over at Ginny with tears in his eyes. "I can't-"

Ginny swallowed heavily. She didn't have the words to tell him that she didn't know, that she had been praying to every god she'd ever heard of since she had found her bloodied on the ground.

"That little guy didn't just get his fight from you," Harry said, smiling as Draco's panicked eyes landed on him. "She's a fighter too."

"She is," Draco agreed, surprised at the ease he believed the words.

 _So, fight_ , he projected into their bond. _Fight for our son._

* * *

She wasn't sure how or when the blackness had lessened, but slowly her senses returned.

At first, there were only sounds. Whispers she couldn't make out. The shuffling of feet against the ground. The clinking of vials as they were rearranged. People talking somewhere outside the room. A baby crying. A voice telling her to fight.

Touch came next. Warm hands encasing her own. Soft fingers in her hair. A small hand on the side of her face. A familiar brush against her lips.

Then there were the images. Andromeda hovering over her. Narcissa pacing in the corner. Draco holding something in his arms as he cried beside the bed. Harry and Ginny standing in the doorway. Lucius being led to at the end of her bed, his face gruesomely bruised.

But she was still frozen, stuck in whatever prison she had retreated into to survive, and she couldn't puzzle her way out.

After a while – or had it only been a few hours, she really couldn't tell – she just accepted that this was how things would be. That she would just have to be content with the small moments of lucidity where she almost felt alive again. It would be enough, she thought, knowing that everyone else was alright.

And yet, there was something inside of her, an annoyingly persistent itch of sorts, screaming at her that it wasn't. It clawed at her bones, coaxing her out of submission until the wheels in her brain started churning again. Switches flipped on, and then, she overtaken by an electrical current, almost as if her entire body was being charged for some greater purpose.

She tried to open her eyes, but something stopped her. Something called to her, beckoning for her to open her mind a bit further, to dwell in the new sensations for a just a little bit longer, and so she waited. And then just when she was about to pull away, just when her impatience appeared to finally win the battle happening within, a light exploded behind her eyes, and she was flooded with memories that weren't her own.

_A young girl was running through the woods, her curly hair flying wildly behind her as she moved. There was a bright light. And then then there was… knowledge. And power._

_The young girl wasn't young anymore. Her face was a little more worn, a little more wrinkled, but her eyes still sparkled with the same curiosity she held as a young child. She was watching her child, smiling, as he danced in the rain._

_The child was grown, pacing outside of a small hut. A cry filled the air, and he collapsed to the ground, a strange current running through his body. He awoke to an outstretched hand. It belonged to his mother. Her eyes were filled with understanding._

_It was a small gathering of people both young and old. Wrinkled faces of those who'd held the power mingled with the faces of those they'd passed it along to and those who had yet to be touched by it. They were celebrating. Another birth was on the horizon. A new wielder would soon be joining the ranks._

_The group grew, and soon, not every child was guaranteed membership in the ranks. Some lineages died off. Others persisted. But when the power passed, it was always the same. The birth of a worthy child was always both a beginning and an end._

_Another gathering. Much time had passed. Much knowledge had been gained. But there was arguing. Some wanted to take their power to new lands. Others wanted to keep it close to home, where it was sacred. The meeting ended. The group was fractured. And the half that stayed was never quite the same._

_More time passed. The group was now just three. Two women and one man. There were no children. There were no elders. It was just them. And then, quite suddenly there was only one._

_Just one._

Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she inhaled so quickly that she nearly choked on the air flooding her lungs.

Every inch of her body was buzzing with a power she didn't recognize, and for a second, she could have sworn she could hear someone or something talking to her. But she brushed it to the side. The memories had shown her all she needed to know.

And then she heard the cry.

 _So, it's happened_.

"Hello?" she croaked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "Is anyone there?"

She didn't have to wait long for a response. The door to her room burst open, and there _he_ was with his piercing eyes and stupidly perfect hair.

"Hermione," he said, his chest heaving as stared at her, his eyes studying her so intently that she couldn't help but blush.

"Draco," she whispered, scrambling to pull herself out of bed.

He was next to her before she could blink, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her from falling to the floor.

"You're alive," she murmured, bringing a hand to the side of his face.

"So are you," he replied, smiling weakly as he leaned into her touch.

They stared at each other for a few moments, neither willing to admit the fates they had allowed themselves to imagine for one another. It was too gruesome to think about, let alone articulate, and so they remained silent, savoring the warmth of their bodies against each other. And then, because words would never be enough, they were kissing, their lips crashing together with such a force that it took their collective breaths away.

 _I love you_ , Hermione told him through their bond, her complete and utter infatuation with him flooding through the barrier.

 _I love you too_ , Draco replied, gasping into her mouth as her emotions encircled his own. It was almost too much, feeling everything that she felt about him, and if they weren't so familiar, he might have pulled away in shock. Instead, he deepened their kiss, pulling her closer to him until there wasn't any space left between them. He was never going to let her go again.

It was then he realized that he was hogging her attention, that there was someone else who needed her as much as he did. _We have a son,_ he told her, projecting his memories of their child into her mind.

A small sob escaped Hermione's throat as she focused on an image of a small (and unsurprisingly blonde) baby asleep in Draco's arms.

 _He's perfect_.

_He is._

Hermione didn't want their kiss to end, she especially didn't want to stop watching the memories of their son, but the buzzing in her bones wouldn't let her forget. And Draco needed to know. She needed to tell him who she really was.

"I know what he wanted," Hermione told him, resting her forehead against Draco's as he buried his hands in her hair. "I know why he came for me."

She didn't need to specify who _he_ was; Draco knew who she was talking about. What he didn't know, however, was how she could have possibly figured out why he had come for her. She'd been asleep, teetering on the edge of consciousness for nearly two days. How could she know?

"What–?" he began, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"It was my inheritance," Hermione interrupted, anticipating his question before he could finish it. "He wanted to stop my inheritance."

"I don't understand," Draco replied, pulling away slightly so he could look at her more closely. "What inheritance?"

Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "The Norse mages – my bloodline," she began, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke. "They weren't born with their power. They inherited it." She paused, opening her eyes again so she could watch Draco's response. "I thought most of what I was feeling the past few months – the headaches, the strange buzzing – were simply just normal side-effects of the pregnancy. But they weren't. My body was trying preparing me for something else. Something a bit more… powerful."

Hermione paused again, this time holding out her hand.

"The power of the Norse mages passes from parent to child when the child becomes a parent themselves. The man who attacked us – he wielded that power. But it doesn't belong to him anymore," she said, turning her fingers slightly until her entire hand was enveloped in a myriad of small, almost lightening-like electrical charges. "Now, it belongs to me."

"Fuck," Draco breathed, the light from the electricity dancing in his eyes. "Wait," he said, the entirety of Hermione's statement finally registering with him. "But that means…"

Hermione swallowed heavily. It was this revelation that hurt the most. "Yes," she said, her heart racing. "The man who is trying to kill me is my father."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I warned you that this one would take a bit of time (and I am sorry about that), but I really hope this ending made up for the wait! I can't say much about this strange turn of events without giving my whole plot line away, so I'll just ask everyone to leave their pitchforks at home until I post the next chapter.
> 
> Also, I do apologize for the lack of Hermione/baby material here. I tried to add it at the end, but it just didn't fit well. I promise you'll get plenty of it next week!
> 
> The reviews for the last chapter were amazing, and I love you all. Special shoutout to LiteraryRomantic (AO3) for guessing the real meaning of this story's title before this chapter even came out!


	26. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're taking it back a couple decades (or three) this week.
> 
> Songs – Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, If you Could Only See by Tonic, and Blurry by Puddle of Mudd

Draco was still asleep, his mouth slightly parted and his hair uncharacteristically rumpled as he snored quietly on the other side of the bed. He looked so peaceful with his long limbs sprawled haphazardly around him. It had been too long since Hermione had seen his face painted with something other than perpetual worry, and so even though the sun had been up for nearly an hour, she simply watched him unable to disturb his calm.

She certainly wished she could find the same sort of bliss, gods knew she needed the rest, but if only one of them could be blessed with serenity, she was glad it was him. He had been through enough, and while so had she, she figured a little bit of exhaustion was a small price to pay to avoid the nightmares that haunted her every time she closed her eyes.

The closet she had come to whatever calm Draco had managed to find in his deep slumber was when she was with their son. She had been up for hours staring at the small, chubby-cheeked face that was peeking out of the bassinet beside her, and not even the fatigued heaviness in her eyes was enough to pull her away.

 _Our baby boy_.

He was impossibly small, as would be expected for a child that came barreling into the world almost two months early, but that didn't seem to hinder the way in which he gawked at everything around him. He seemed to study things with an intensity that was more fitting for someone at the end of their life rather than the beginning, something that caused Draco to break into hysterics almost constantly, and even Hermione couldn't hide her amusement when his eyes would narrow in apparent judgement when someone made a noise that he didn't particularly like.

_Definitely a Malfoy._

Really, the silky strands of platinum hair and permanent smirk were really all anyone needed to recognize the baby's resemblance to Draco, but for Hermione, it wasn't the physical similarities that she found the most compelling. It was the way he mirrored how his father so often slept – head turned to the side, an arm above his head, the other draped across the body – and the way his little mouth puckered and frowned each time the Malfoy patriarch flounced into the room or when Harry tried to say something funny. She could see Draco in almost everything he did, and it turned her heart into mush.

_Baby Scorpius._

Despite the trauma of his birth, and really all of the months leading up to it, he had miraculously survived, but the fact that Hermione was still around to watch over him as he slept was another kind of miracle altogether. If Andromeda hadn't arrived when she did, if Hermione's power hadn't taken hold when it did…

Hermione shuddered. _It's done_ , she tried to tell herself. _There's nothing to be gained from running these theoretical scenarios in your head._

But she couldn't stop.

The power now coursing through her veins was destined for her son, and that frightened her more than the knowledge that she herself had been gifted with something that she didn't quite understand. She had no idea what this meant for her son's future or whether he'd ever be able to live a normal life, and a few scattered memories from those who came before her would never be enough to silence the terrified thoughts racing through her brain. She wanted answers – needed them in a way she had never needed any sort of information before. Because how was she supposed to protect her son without them?

And why, when it could have been literally anyone else, did the power have to be fated for her?

Her parents had always talked about the day she was born as if it had been such a magical moment in their lives. And perhaps it really had been. But now, with everything she had learned from the light, she wasn't sure she could really trust the stories she had been told growing up. Something wasn't adding up, and really, she could only think of three possible explanations for her current predicament, none which made her feel any kind of warm and fuzzy inside.

The first, that she had been adopted, was the least painful of the three. It certainly wasn't unheard of for adopted children to be kept in the dark, but if she had been, why would her parents have talked about her birth as if they had been there? Why would they have hidden the truth from her for so long? Adopted or not, it wouldn't have meant she was loved any less, and she struggled to see why they would have had a reason to pretend like it had never happened. And so, no matter how much she wished that this scenario was the one that was true, she found it the most unlikely of the three.

The second, that her mother had been unfaithful, was significantly more painful for her to think about. In fact, the mere thought that her mother had lied to everyone, was not a revelation she was ready to face. Because how could someone who raised her own daughter to hold honesty and integrity above all else have hidden something so terribly important for so long? Wouldn't that have gone against everything she believed in? But it wasn't impossible, and unfortunately, she had decided that this scenario was just a tad more likely than the first.

The last, however, was something she hadn't even had the courage to utter out loud. It was a thought that had come to her in the dead of the night, and she was still struggling to digest it. Because if it was true, it would mean that her mother had suffered at the hands of her biological father, and not in a way that was particularly easy to overcome. It would also mean that she was the product of rape, conceived through an act of extreme brutality, and that was significantly worse than simply sharing some DNA with a madman. Of the three scenarios, this was the only one where she could understand not being told the truth, and so it had risen to the top of the list.

_Shit._

So yes, everything was fucked, and nothing made sense.

Well, except one thing wasn't and one thing did.

 _Scorpius_.

Hermione had barely been able to look away since she first held him her arms, not even when she got upset about her parentage. The knowledge that someone wanted to hurt him simply because she was his mother, enraged her.

_That man was never and will never be my father. And he will pay for everything he's done._

It wasn't easy, keeping herself under control when these moments of fury hit her, but one look at the child she had almost lost, at the life she almost didn't have, was all it took for her to settle back into the reality of their situation.

_Scorpius Theodore Malfoy._

While the name would have seemed ridiculous to her just a few months prior – she had told Theo as much each time he brought it up during Draco's long recovery – knowing what he had sacrificed to save her, to save their child, was really all it took for her and Draco to settle on the name. It wasn't exactly what Theo had wanted, and she could almost hear the groan he would have made learning that his name had been sandwiched between the likes of Scorpius and Malfoy, but she hoped that wherever he was, it would be enough for him to realize that he would always have a family that would care about him.

And Hermione desperately hoped that there was still a way to save him.

Draco had needed to hold her back when she was told that Theo had likely been taken hostage, and he had held on even when an unexpected pulse of energy shot out of her body. Her sudden outburst of power had been enough to cause everyone in the cottage to run outside toward them in horror, but Draco had simply taken it, gritting his teeth in pain until Hermione had finally come back to herself and finally cut off the flow of energy. She had been almost inconsolable when she realized what she had done, and it had taken soft mutterings from both Harry and Lucius to get her to agree to walk back inside the cottage, but Draco hadn't even thought to blame her or complain. She certainly would never forget the look on Draco's face after the whole ordeal. Instead of anger or betrayal, it had been one of resignation, as if he truly believed he deserved the pain for leaving his friend behind, and it wasn't an image she'd easily forget.

_I can't ever lose control again._

She tore her eyes away from Scorpius for a moment to glance over at her husband, relaxing slightly as her eyes moved over the pale skin of his shoulders which were exposed above the covers on the bed. For now, he was safe – for now, no one was hurting him (not even her), and she wished that she could extend the peace for a bit little longer. She reached out to run her fingers along the curve of his arm, but a soft groan called her attention further upward.

"Mm the sun's up," Draco observed groggily. "You should have woken me."

Hermione chuckled quietly. _And what good would that have done anyone?_ she replied through their bond, gesturing toward the still sleeping Scorpius whose small fist was still raised above his head. _The two of you would probably sleep through the apocalypse._

 _He's still asleep?_ Draco asked back, surprised, as he shifted to his side and propped himself up on his elbow so that he could peek over Hermione to see for himself.

 _Has been since I fed him earlier this morning_ , she replied, unable to contain the smile on her face. _He's still sleeping off his last meal. What's your excuse?_ she mused, smirking at her husband.

 _Malfoys need their beauty sleep_ , he quipped, dropping his head to look at her again, his eyes dark silver in the early morning light. He reached out to brush a rogue curl behind her ear, and paused, his fingers gently skating across the side of her cheek. _Did you get any sleep?_ he asked, finally taking note of the dark circles under her eyes.

 _Enough_ , she lied, quickly averting her eyes even though she knew he already could sense that it wasn't the truth.

Draco sighed. _You can't stay awake forever_ , he told her, lifting her chin with his hand. _Even Odin had to sleep every once in a while_.

He was right of course, but that didn't mean she had to agree. _Yes, but he was vulnerable every time he did._

 _Hermione_ , Draco began, running a finger over her lips, _he can't hurt us now. You said it yourself, he doesn't have the power anymore_.

 _Just because the power isn't his doesn't mean that he can't hurt us_ , she replied harshly.

Draco pursed his lips together as if her words had elicited more than just a painful memory before shaking his head. _He's just a man now_ , he told her finally. _We'll find him and kill him._

They had spent much of the time that Scorpius had been asleep over the past day bickering about what to do next. Draco had argued that they should act quickly and wanted Hermione to use her new powers to hunt the man down. Hermione, on the other hand, was terrified what would happen if they both left their son's side (because she wasn't going to let her husband out of her sight again) and had argued that they slow down and make a plan. They had hoped to settle the argument by asking the others what they thought, but in an almost unpredictable turn of events, Lucius and Harry had sided with Hermione, both citing the added risk of leaving the cottage before they could guarantee everyone's safety, while Narcissa, Ginny and Andromeda had staunchly supported Draco, none of them particularly keen to wait around like sitting ducks.

Their disagreement, it seemed, was about to continue, but before either of them were able to reignite the argument, Scorpius began to stir. Hermione and Draco tore their eyes away from each other to watch in awe as their son yawned and blinked his eyes open. There was a brief moment of continued quiet during which Scorpius scrunched up his nose in confusion before he let out a small wail, signaling his need for attention… and food.

"Did we finish the bottles yesterday?" Draco asked, throwing the covers off his body and walking around the bed to gently scoop Scorpius into his arms.

Hermione shook her head. "There should be one or two left," she replied, smiling as she watched Draco place a kiss on one of their son's rosy cheeks.

"I'll take this one then," he said, moving the now fully awake and very fussy Scorpius against his shoulder. "Need to give those–" he pointed suggestively at her chest "–a well-deserved break."

"This is quite literally what they were designed for," she said, rolling her eyes as she followed Draco out of bed and moved behind him. "But I could use a hot bath," she added as we wrapped an arm on his waist and placed a quick kiss on Scorpius' nose. "Be good for daddy," she muttered quietly, running a hand over her son's soft blond hair.

Draco turned to face Hermione, bouncing slightly on his feet to soothe the baby as he bent forward to place a kiss on his wife's lips.

Knowing they were moments away from a tantrum, Hermione pulled away more quickly than she would have liked. She honestly didn't think Draco had ever looked so sexy, and even though there were more important things to worry about, like feeding the baby for example, she couldn't help but yearn for a time when they got be alone together again.

"I'm not a piece of meat you know," Draco mused, the corners of his mouth turned into a dangerously handsome smirk as he moved a hand to rub Scorpius' back.

Hermione blushed. "Sorry," she mumbled quickly, slightly annoyed that he could still manage to turn her into putty. "Go on," she said, waving him away before she managed to make an even bigger fool out of herself. "I'll try to be quick."

"No, take your time," Draco instructed as he opened the door, one arm still wrapped tightly around the fussy baby against his shoulder. "I'm sure Mother will want to dress Scorp in something ridiculous now that he's awake. Merlin knows what she'll think of this time."

Hermione smiled to herself as she watched the two of them disappear into the hallway, her heart swelling when Draco's murmurs of adoration and their son's high-pitched coos leaked back into the room. She could have listened to those sounds for an eternity, and she might have if her feet hadn't taken control and finally dragged her body to the bathroom at the other end of the hall.

She paused for a moment in the doorway, shivering as the memory of what had happened to her flashed behind her eyes. There weren't any traces of blood on the tile floor, Draco had made sure of that before she had set foot in it the day prior, but she still cast her eyes upward as she tip-toed around the area where she had collapsed a few short days ago.

When she made it to the side containing the large clawfoot tub, she let out a sigh of relief and moved her eyes over the array of bubble bath options Narcissa had left out for her. She picked the scent that reminded her most of home – a mix of vanilla and lavender – and turned the knobs, watching as the tub filled quickly in front of her. It was only when the bubbles finally threatened to spill over onto that floor that she turned off the water and took off the baggy shirt she had slept in. Quickly, before the chill of the morning air settled in, she submerged herself in the warm water, hissing softly as she buried herself up to her chin.

Her body was still sore from her ordeal, and the warmth of the water immediately soothed her tired bones. She let her eyes close as she leaned her head back, her curls hanging down the outside of the tub.

She had only been resting for a few minutes when the sound of something tapping on the window interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up, half-expecting to find Draco's mischievous grin framed by one of the wooden-framed panes, but what she found instead was something a bit more curious. A small brown owl that couldn't have been bigger than the palm of her hand was fluttering outside the window, tapping its beak excitedly against the glass. There was a letter attached to one of its legs, the size of which should have been able to weigh the small bird down but miraculously (or magically) did not. It took a moment for her to compute that the bird was trying to get her attention, and when it did, she pulled herself out of the tub and moved toward the window, pausing only to wrap a towel around her naked body.

The window creaked loudly as she opened it, and she glanced nervously at the cracked door behind her to confirm that she was still alone before opening the window the rest of the way, jumping slightly as the bird flew quickly toward her. It landed on her shoulder, nudging her softly with its beak and holding out is leg for her.

"I don't have any treats," she said quietly, as she untied the letter.

But the owl didn't seem to mind. It simply nuzzled her again before spreading its wings and swooping back outside, disappearing almost as quickly as it appeared.

Hermione stood there for a moment, water still trickling down her body from her impromptu exit from the bath as she contemplated what to do next. It didn't seem likely that this was a trap; if it was, she reasoned, something would have happened to her as soon as the removed the letter from the bird's leg. It also didn't seem likely that this was a letter from anyone at the Ministry who was eager to find them; the Patronus that Harry had instructed Andromeda to send should have been enough to keep anyone from trying to contact them. So, who was so determined to reach her? Any why had it coincided with a moment when she was alone?

With shaky hands, she tore open the seal, deciding that there was no sense worrying the others and sat back on the edge of the tub, taking a deep breath before unfolding the paper now sitting in her lap.

_What the…_

It had been years, a decade almost, since she had seen the handwriting, but there was no mistaking who it belonged to. She should have been shocked, or at the very least confused, and yet, knowing who had written the letter, the only thing she felt was intrigued.

The question wasn't how a dead man was writing to her; it was why.

Glancing at the door again, she snapped her fingers to shut and lock it. Something told her everything was about to make a whole lot more sense, and even though Draco had promised her some time alone, she didn't want to risk being caught reading something that others hadn't had time to vet.

Taking a deep breath, she started reading.

_My Dearest Hermione,_

_I had hoped that I'd be able to tell you this in person one day, but it seems that I am finally out of time._

_First, if you are reading this, it means that congratulations are in order, and I hope this letter finds both you and your family well. The birth of your first child is a happy time, one of transformation and growth. However, as you have undoubtedly already deduced, your transition to motherhood will not have been like others around you, and the blame is my own – and only my own – for inadequately preparing for what you must now face._

_If we had been able to have this conversation face-to-face, this would be the moment that I'd ask you to bear with me, to allow an old man a moment to take you on a journey back through time, but seeing as I will be long gone by the time you read this (and I do hope my death proved a useful diversion), you'll just have to trust that everything that follows is vitally important._

_I'll start at the beginning._

_When I was much younger and a bit more naïve, I stumbled across a man who called himself the Aescling. We met in a dirty old pub nestled in the outskirts of Oslo. I was running from things I shouldn't have been hiding from, and he was fuming over something that I didn't quite understand. We came together, forming a tenuous sort of friendship after sharing a few drinks and bonding over the perceived wrongs that had sent us both scurrying from our homes._

_In the weeks that followed, we spent very little time talking about anything of substance, instead finding solace in a seemingly endless cycle of mead and debauchery, but even with the very little he offered me in the way of backstory, I could sense that he wasn't ordinary. When I talked, he studied me as if he could read my mind, as if he knew every single one of my misguided adolescent ambitions. I never once saw him use a wand, and it seemed that it only took the smallest movements in his hands to perform magic that I myself still struggled with. But it was the spells that he muttered under his breath that really caught my attention; they were in an odd but somewhat familiar language, one I eventually recognized as old Norse, and they were like nothing I'd ever heard or seen before._

_The man was so different from other wizards I had befriended. And I couldn't, for whatever reason, tear myself away._

_I didn't know it at the time, but the Aescling was a member of an ancient but dwindling group of Norse mages whose lineage was rumored to trace all the way back to the humans that first inhabited lands that now encompass parts of Norway and Sweden._

_Eventually, many years after we parted ways, I stumbled across an old Viking Age record written by a monk who managed to survive a particularly brutal Viking raid. It documented a strange story, one that involved a woman who decimated an entire battalion of soldiers with a single, large bolt of lightning. The monk had managed to hide during the raid, concealing himself behind a collection of barrels, and after the soldiers had been killed, he managed to overhear a conversation between the women and a man who had appeared suddenly at her side._

_They were close enough to the barrels that the monk was able to make out most of their conversation, and although the words were a little difficult for him to understand, he was able to interpret enough. The strangers spoke about a power, one that allowed them to control things they shouldn't. They spoke about their desire to conquer more land further inland, to wipe out the lives of anyone that got in their way so that their own people could claim control over the land. They spoke about sacrifices and boats. But what had terrified the monk most wasn't their words – those hadn't been that much different from any other enemy in war. What had truly frightened him, what nearly caused him to give up his location with a yelp of surprise, was the moment when the two strangers conjured fire in the palms of their hands._

_Demons, he had called them. And, at least in that instance, he might not have been that far off._

_It took me many more years, and countless days of painstaking research, digging through a myriad of old, crumbling documents to uncover the rest of what I'm about to tell you, and in an attempt to avoid rambling on for longer than I already have, I'll simply summarize the details._

_Members of this group wielded an ancient kind of magic, one intimately linked with nature. They were unwavering in their loyalty to family and tradition, but that isn't what really set them apart from others with magic in their veins. They were different not so much because of what they could do, but because of how easily they could do it – all of it._

_They could control the elements, and they could read minds. They could cast spells without wands and circumvent blood magic with terrifying ease. And yet, their power, which was both immense and impossibly difficult to comprehend, was a tightly guarded secret that few outside of their group ever had the privilege (or horror) of witnessing and living long enough to tell the tale._

_So as it turns out, I knew very little about the man I had met in the pub – for instance, I never even knew that his real name was Eirik or that he had very little family left – but even if I had known what I know now, I'm not sure it would have made any difference._

_You see, I found the Aescling to be alluringly charismatic, an older brother figure of sorts that I was drawn to more out of a need for belonging than anything else. He was very much so a stranger, but there was something about him that drew me to him. And so, even despite my reservations at following anyone anywhere, especially someone I knew very little about, I accepted his offer to accompany him north, not quite sure what awaited me at the end of our journey._

_In hindsight, I should have realized he wasn't someone who should be admired much more quickly than I did, but by the time I realized what his real ambitions were – and what he could really do – it was far too late. I had already followed him to his final destination, an ancient Norse temple tucked away in an old, overgrown forest. Even though I knew his intentions were anything but pure, I sat there frozen behind a small window outside as he presented himself to two others, shouting words that I couldn't hear. And even when he glanced in my direction with a wicked smile on his face, I still did nothing. I simply watched in terror as he summoned two bolts of lightning and used them to slaughter the other two people before they could so much as blink._

_Violence wasn't new to me, but the crazed, satisfied look he gave me when he turned to face me again sent a shiver down my spine. I fled immediately, returning to England with the hope of finding some way to defeat him. I truly expected him to find me and spent the better part of two years living in constant fear, but he never came, and as the years turned into decades, I simply buried the memory so deep that I almost convinced myself it had just been a dream._

_But it hadn't been, and my failure to hunt him down, my reluctance to do anything at all because what he had done had scared me so deeply, would turn out to be one of my greatest regrets._

_As you might imagine, the story doesn't end there._

_Some many years later, long after my tenure at Hogwarts had begun, a woman found me. She claimed to have a message for me from the Aescling, but when I asked her to relay it without so much as a pause, she merely shook her head, her eyes wide with worry._

_Her name was Sif, or at least that's what the Aescling had called her after he took her from her mother and forced her to be his slave. The man, she told me, was still powerful, but rarely sober, and she had managed to escape after a particularly violent night, hoping to find someone who could help her. She was pregnant, the child was his, and she insisted that if he ever found her, neither her nor her child would live to see another day._

_I'm ashamed to admit that I offered her very little. I was preoccupied with another dangerous foe, and after finding her a place to stay and promising to be there to help with the birth, I paid her very little attention, returning my attention the battle against a darkness that I was more familiar with._

_Some months later, she sent me an owl when she went into labor, but instead of coming to her aid as I had promised, I failed her yet again by sending a house elf in my stead to escort her to a nearby Muggle hospital._ _She was still in the delivery room recovering from a difficult birth when the Aescling found her. I will spare you the details of what happened to her next, but I will say this: she did not die a happy death. Neither did her newborn child, a baby girl, or the nurse who was attending her in a nearby room._

_At this point, you might be confused. You might even be wondering why I've blabbered on through all these pieces of parchment. But if I know you like I think I do, you probably have some inkling where this is going._

_If not, then perhaps this next bit of information will be enough for you to figure it out. The date of the birth and subsequent death of the child was 19 September 1979. The location was a place you of course will not remember and yet will forever hold a special place in your parent's hearts._

_Yes, you were there the day that the Aescling killed his own daughter._

_Now, if that were the end of the story, we wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have needed to send this letter. And you would be none the wiser about what actually occurred that day in the hospital because knowing the particulars of this story would serve no purpose other than to traumatize you deeply. However, something very strange happened, and that something, as you might have guessed, involved you._

_I told you that the Aescling was a member of an ancient group, but I haven't yet detailed how the man came into his power. When Sif came to me, she knew very little about in the specifics of his power, but she was smart enough to recognize that it was tied somehow to his bloodline, that the birth of a child was a threat to his very way of life. Unfortunately, it wasn't until after her death that I uncovered the real reason behind his mania, and when I did, I realized how silly it was of me to think that Voldemort was alone in his quest for complete control and immortality._

_The Aescling's power was inherited, just like all of the other Norse mages who had been chosen as wielders before him. It was a tremendous gift, one that had always been destined to leave him when a chid of his own became a parent, but it wasn't in the man's nature to share anything, not even a magic that at its very roots could ever belong to a single person._

_But when he killed this child (and no, I don't believe this one was the first), his actions set off an unexpected series of events. Instead of receding back into him, as he no doubt expected it to, the power reached out for someone else, someone who would be worthy to wield the gift that had been wasted on a man so blinded by greed._

_And it found you._

_You were barely a few hours old, but the power saw something in you. It sensed what you would grow into, it knew who you really were, that magic was already flowing through your veins, and it latched on, choosing you as the sole heir to carry the gift into uncertain times._

_The power chose you because you were desperately needed. And you are needed, even more desperately than anyone has ever needed you for anything before. It is, for the lack of a better word, your destiny._

_I wouldn't blame you if you're angry with me for not telling you sooner. Shout and scream and curse at me if you must – I deserve nothing less, and I promise I won't take it personally – but don't dawdle for long. Wherever you are, the Aescling will find you; even without the power, he won't stop hunting until both you and your child are dead._

_The last page of this letter is a map; I've marked the location of the old Norse temple. I have no idea if that's where he'll be hiding, or if it's even still in use, but it's a start, and I hope it is a fruitful one. He will be weakened – the power will now answer only to you – but his knowledge of Norse magic will remain, and you must be careful. He is cunning. He is ruthless. But most importantly, he has nothing to lose, so do not underestimate what he is capable of._

_When you are ready, go and fight for your family, for what is rightfully yours. Fight for those he has hurt and for those that he has yet to encounter. Fight because it's the right thing to do. Fight because this incredible gift is now yours, and if anyone can right the wrongs of the past, it's you._

_I am truly sorry,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. It's poetic, really, that you and Harry found each other, both of you marked so drastically by the greed and violence of one man and purposely kept in the dark by another. I hope that someday you can both forgive me._

Hermione wasn't sure when she had started crying, but when she finally looked up from the page, her cheeks were already streaked with tears.

The story was unbelievable, and yet, almost inherently, she knew it was true. She wasn't the daughter of a monster, her parents hadn't lied to her, and she was still very much so a Muggle-born, but she wasn't just an ordinary witch; she hadn't been since the day of her birth.

 _The world really is bonkers_ , she thought.

Suddenly, she caught the muffled shouts and frantic knocking at the door, and a moment later she recognized the familiar voice clawing at the back of her head.

 _Draco?_ she called out through the bond, confused about all the fuss.

 _What the fuck is going on?_ Draco responded, his terror flooding into her mind.

Hermione stood up, her legs shaking slightly underneath her, and she snapped her fingers to unlock the door. Almost instantly, the door swung open and Draco rushed into the room, his eyes moving around wildly as Harry stood behind him, his wand raised in the air.

"Why weren't you answering me?" Draco demanded somewhat angrily. "I thought something happened…" But he let his words trail off when he finally noticed the fresh tears on her face.

 _What happened?_ he asked her more softly through their bond. _What's wrong?_

"I got a letter," she told him quietly, her voice barely audible above the sounds of the waves crashing into the cliff outside. "From Dumbledore," she added, the words cracking as they left her mouth.

Whatever Draco had expected her to say, it hadn't been that, and he stared at her, his mouth open in surprise.

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked, his confusion obvious as he stepped into the room. "But how?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know," she replied, her eyes flickering back to her husband. "But it explains everything."

"Everything?" Draco asked absently, his chest still heaving with each of his ragged breaths.

"Here," Hermione said, holding out the letter for him to take, "read it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to get this posted earlier but just wasn't happy with it until now, so apologies for the delay. Hopefully it was worth the wait! All of your reviews are amazing, and they really are the only thing that gets me through a tough week of writing (like this one). So, keep them coming – we only have four more chapters to go!
> 
> Another gold star to LiteraryRomantic who this week accurately predicted that Theodore would be the baby's middle name – are you in my head or are you just really good at guessing where I'm going with things?
> 
> Also, I realized when I was writing this that I goofed and totally spaced on Hermione's birthday at the beginning of the story, so once I finish these last few chapters up, I'll go back and fix that.


	27. The Voices in Her Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs – Massacre by Kim Petras, Adeline by alt-J, and Castle by Halsey
> 
> memoirs_of_a_slytherin (AO3) has been kind enough to compile all of my (vastly varied) song choices for this story into a playlist on Spotify. Check it out [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5uBmjD9rlDN0QOHUasBorg?si=CKXITj4RTbu8D7ytZ0cpsQ)!

"I don't care what the letter says," Draco said angrily, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "She's not going anywhere near him."

Hermione sighed quietly and shifted Scorpius to her other shoulder, bouncing lightly on her feet as she glanced over at her husband.

 _Well, this is going splendidly_ , she told herself, careful to keep the thought away from the bridge at the back of her mind.

"I don't like it any more than you do," Harry began, his hand resting on Ginny's shoulder as he stood behind where she was sitting at the kitchen table. "But she's not as fragile as you're making her out to be."

Draco grunted, his eyes flickering over to Hermione.

 _Not fragile, just worth more alive than I am_ , he projected through their bond as he held her gaze.

"Oh for fuck's sake," she muttered under her breath.

 _Language, Granger_ , he chided, rolling his eyes as he moved next to her and placed a large hand over his son's head. _He can hear you._

_And what will he think when I tell him how I let you and Harry fly off to your deaths, hmm?_

Draco didn't answer.

And he didn't really need to. His worry and fear were leaking into her mind even despite the ease at which he seemed to be able to keep everyone else out. She knew he just wanted to protect her, that he'd sacrifice anything to keep her safe, but she wasn't a damsel in distress – she never had been – and she wasn't going to let other people fight for her, especially not when she had something they didn't. Power.

Draco kissed the top of Scorpius' head before shifting back against the counter behind him and crossing his arms over his chest.

 _He needs you more than he needs me_ , he told her.

 _Don't be absurd_ , she replied without turning around. _He needs us both._

 _Then tell me what happens when neither of us comes home_ , Draco countered, intentionally letting some of the gruesome images from his nightmares spill into her head. _Are you really willing to risk him losing both of his parents?_

 _Stop that_ , Hermione snapped, trying to shove the images out of her mind. _Those aren't real._

_They might be if you–_

_Just because we have an audience doesn't mean I'll refrain from hexing you,_ she warned, cutting him off. _You're not being fair._

Draco exhaled slowly. _Maybe I would be if you actually took a moment and listened to me._

_I am listening, I just happen to not agree with anything you've said._

The group was still getting used to their private conversations, but no one dared interrupt what was going on between them at the moment. The way Draco was clenching his jaw, his eyes cast upward toward nothing in particular, and the way Hermione was chewing at the inside of her cheek, her face flushed, was indication enough that they were arguing about something important – and it was clear it wasn't going particularly well.

 _He's just a man now_ , Draco asserted like he had done at least a dozen times before. _Harry and I can take care of him ourselves. You don't have to go near him. You don't have to play the hero._

 _I am not– how dare you accuse me of that?_ Hermione wasn't just mad; she was fuming. _You read the letter. You know that he's still dangerous. It's my responsibility to end this._

_It shouldn't be._

_Well, it is._

_You could die._

_So could you._

They weren't getting anywhere, not that they had been with the others before they had retreated into their bond, and it was clear that Hermione needed to switch tactics if she was ever going to get him to see her point of view.

"Draco seems to think that I'm not capable of keeping myself alive," she said suddenly to the group, turning her head to glare at her husband. She didn't care that it was petty; he needed to come to his senses.

 _Really?_ he asked her, shaking his head. _That was a bit childish._

 _You're being childish_ , she retorted, narrowing her eyes at him.

Draco groaned audibly. "She's impossible," he said, looking to his father for help. "Can someone please talk some sense into her."

"We could bring her as a distraction," Lucius offered, the light streaming through the kitchen window highlighting the dark purple bruises under his eyes. "Keep her far enough away that she'd be less likely to be hurt."

Ginny opened her mouth as if to protest, but Hermione caught her eyes and quickly shook her head. She wanted to see how this was going to play out.

"A distraction might work," Harry acknowledged, looking over at Draco cautiously. "This Aescling certainly doesn't seem like the kind of person who'd be able to resist an opportunity to get to her even if he had to risk his life to do it."

"Absolutely not," Draco nearly shouted as he pushed himself off the counter, his face flushed with color. "We are not going to use her as bait."

 _Well, so much for that_ , Hermione thought as she rubbed Scorpius' back, ignoring the small dribble of drool collecting on her shoulder. _Thank Merlin this child sleeps like the dead._

"I wouldn't call it that…" Harry muttered, deciding halfway through his sentence that a stronger rebuttal wouldn't be worth the wrath of the blond breathing heavily on the other side of the room.

"That's exactly what you're both implying," Draco seethed, his eyes moving between Harry and his father.

Lucius exhaled deeply, moving a finger in circles over the top of his cane. "Draco, we're just trying to help. She wants to be there."

"Help," Draco scoffed. "How will her being there do anything but risk her life?"

"She's stronger than you," Ginny cut in, apparently having reached the end of her patience. There was a hint of a smirk at the corner of her lips, and Hermione hoped, for all of their sakes, that Draco couldn't see it. "She's stronger than him too," Ginny continued, raising an eyebrow as Draco frowned at her. "And let's not forget about the whole lightning thing," she added, waving her hand in the air. "She's practically Thor."

Hermione shot Ginny a warning look. _Not helping_ , she mouthed.

Her friend shrugged and leaned back in her chair. _I'm right_ , she mouthed back.

"She doesn't know how to control her power yet," Draco replied, his voice softer than Hermione expected it to be. "I won't risk it."

 _But I will_ , Hermione thought, realizing it was far past time for her to assert herself.

"Listen, I appreciate everyone's concern. I really do," Hermione began, looking around the room, her eyes finding Draco last, "but I'm not going to sit on the sidelines this time."

She could feel the tremble radiating through Draco's body through their connection, and while she wanted to comfort him, she knew she couldn't give him what he wanted. This was her decision to make, and he was just going to have to live with it.

"I'm going to fight," she announced, her eyes still locked on Draco.

A flash of pain crossed his eyes. _Hermione, please don't do this_. His words cut through her thoughts like a sharpened blade. _Please_ , he begged.

 _I'm going to fight_ , she repeated just for him, trying to project calm back through their bond.

But he shrank away from her, pulling his thoughts back into his own head.

Hermione tried to call him back, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he might concede, but when he refused to meet her gaze, she turned back around to face the rest of the group and sighed.

"Well?" she prompted.

"I say if she wants to fight then we let her fight," Andromeda declared from her position on the couch. She had remained oddly quiet since Hermione had told everyone about Dumbledore's letter and throughout the ensuing discussion, but it was obvious now that she had simply been waiting for the right moment to back Hermione up. "Like Ginny said, she's more powerful than any of us anyways," she added, winking at Hermione as she placed her teacup on the end table beside her. "We can't exactly stop her if she chooses to go."

Narcissa, who was seated next to her sister, nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry, Draco," she said softly, offering him an apologetic smile. "You can't stop a mother from protecting her family," she added, looking away from her son acknowledge her daughter-in-law.

"Draco," Harry began, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet.

"Don't say it," Draco said, his hands once again balled into fists at his sides. "Don't you dare say it."

"We can't force her–"

But Draco didn't wait for Harry to finish. He quickly turned his back on the group, yanking open the back door and slamming it behind him as he stormed outside.

 _Draco_? Hermione tried calling through their bond.

 _Just don't_ , came his angry reply.

 _Don't do this_ , she told him. _Don't make this harder than it needs to be. Come back and talk to me._

But he didn't reply.

And right on cue, almost as if he could sense the tension in the air, Scorpius began to cry.

* * *

After storming out of the cottage, Draco wandered to the edge of the cliff, fixing his gaze on the distant horizon as he attempted to calm his furiously beating heart. He knew she had every right to fight, and he knew she was more than capable, but the protective dragon inside of him wouldn't stop roaring, and that had been a bit too difficult to ignore.

She was his wife, the mother of their son, and if he lost her, if she died trying to protect everyone, he wasn't sure he would ever recover.

Eventually, he began to pace back and forth along the edge of the cliff, mumbling quietly to himself as he tried to figure out a way out of the corner he had backed himself into. He shouldn't have yelled. He shouldn't have slammed the door and stormed off. But he couldn't just let her run off into battle as if she was some sort of unbeatable weapon. And when after nearly an hour of mindless pacing he still hadn't found a solution for his predicament, he dropped to the ground, slumping forward with his legs hanging precariously over the side of the cliff.

He sat for even longer, ignoring the crick in his neck from staying hunched over for so long. Every once in a while, he would feel Hermione's consciousness brush against his own, and each time he pushed her away, trying to ignore the pain in his chest when she would retreat away from him, her thoughts as troubled as his own. He was angry, yes, but not with her; he was angry at the situation, at Dumbledore for never telling her, at himself for not being strong enough to protect her – for ever thinking that power and control could bring anything other than pain and destruction. But mostly he was angry because he knew she was right.

The Aescling needed to be killed, and she was the only one who had the power to do it.

 _Are you coming to bed?_ a voice called suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

Draco lifted his head and sighed. _Yes_ , he replied after a moment, finally pushing himself off the ground. He had been away from her long enough.

He walked back to the cottage slowly, his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders slumped forward in defeat. It was dark, the sun having set nearly an hour ago, but he could still make out a small figure hovering near the door.

 _I'm sorry_ , he told her, not needing any sort of confirmation that it was her; he knew it was.

 _I know_ , she replied, and Draco had to take a deep breath to keep himself from shuddering as her relief came barreling through their bond. _I'm sorry too_ , she told him.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he said, stopping a few paces away from her. "I shouldn't have let myself get so angry."

"If the roles were reversed, I'm not sure I would have reacted any differently," she admitted, smiling weakly as her eyes moved over his face. "Scorp's inside with your father," she added, taking a step toward him. "So unless you want our son growing up with a deranged fondness for peacocks, you better get inside and save him."

Draco chuckled, closing the remaining distance between them. "Oh, the horror," he mused, reaching out to cup the side of her face.

Her eyes fluttered close at his touch, and he moved the pad of his thumb to her lips, tracing small circles over them until she parted her mouth in response.

"Careful, Granger," he warned, smirking as she opened her eyes and looked at him with surprise.

He pulled her into him then, relaxing as she buried her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

"Can you forgive me?" he murmured into her curls.

"There's nothing to forgive," she replied, lifting her head to look up at him. "You just want to protect me. I can't fault you for that."

"Just say it," he said, his voice uncharacteristically meek, "please."

"I forgive you," Hermione told him, wrapping her hands around the back of his head, her fingers teasing the nape of his neck. "Now can we go inside?"

"Not yet." And then he was kissing her, his tongue tracing along her lips before eagerly parting them and clashing his tongue with her own.

He could sense everything she was feeling – her love for him, her overwhelming lust for him, her own fear and worry – and when she pushed her body closer, her hands now clinging to him for dear life, he nearly keeled over, dizzy with need for her.

"Hermione," he whispered, pulling away. They were both breathing heavily, and he rested his forehead against hers to give them a chance to recover.

"Fuck, I know," she said quietly, moving her hands to his chest. "Still healing," she muttered, somewhat annoyed.

Draco laughed. "Well, there is that," he told her, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "but I was simply going to point out that we should probably go be responsible parents and save Scorp from my father."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're the worst."

"I know," he replied, kissing her one last time before letting her lead him inside.

Lucius looked up when they walked into the living room, nodding quickly at Draco before returning his attention to the infant in his arms. It was still strange seeing his father being so loving and gentle with his son, but then again, stranger things had happened to him recently, and he was just happy that he was able to witness the moment at all.

He held Hermione from behind for a few minutes, laughing with the others as his father began to describe in detail how Scorpius should go about selecting the best peacocks for breeding. The whole thing almost felt normal, being surrounded by family both chosen and not bonding over the ridiculousness that was Lucius Malfoy as a grandfather, but he couldn't shake the darkness that was lurking at the back of his mind. The happiness in the room was balanced precariously on a razor sharp knife's edge, teetering dangerously, and one wrong move, one mistake, would topple the entire thing over.

Sensing his growing discomfort, Hermione announced that she was tired and stole Scorpius back from Lucius, motioning for Draco to follow her back to their room. He excused himself, pausing on his way out of the room to apologize to Harry, who quickly waved him away.

"I would have reacted the same way," he told him, but Draco thanked him again anyways.

When he made it to the bedroom, Hermione was talking quietly to Scorpius as she placed him in the bassinet, her voice quiet and soothing. He watched her from the doorway for a moment, a warmth spreading across his chest as she told their son how much she loved him and how he better not grow up to be as stubborn as his father.

"That might be an entirely futile exercise," he told her, chuckling softly. "Or have you forgotten how incredibly stubborn you can be?"

Hermione turned to face him and smiled. "You're right, he's doomed."

"Terribly," Draco replied, smirking.

He moved next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder as he leaned forward to place a kiss on the top of his son's head.

"I could watch him forever," she said quietly.

"Me too," he agreed. "But we should really get some sleep while we can."

Hermione nodded and shifted onto her feet, turning so that her chest was against Draco's. A shiver ran down his spine as she pressed herself against him, and he swallowed heavily, trying to keep his breathing under control.

"I love you," she said softly, placing a hand on his cheek.

"I love you too," he told her before dropping backwards onto the bed, pulling her with him. "Fucking more than you know." And he kissed her so passionately that he wasn't sure whose gasp it was the filled the air around them.

* * *

The guilt almost did her in. She almost didn't sneak out of bed and scoop Scorpius out of the bassinet, casting a silencing charm around her in case he made a fuss. She almost didn't open the door and walk out into the dark hallway, cradling the baby in her arms as if he was the only thing keeping her rooted to the ground. She almost didn't turn the corner into the kitchen. She almost didn't accept the cloak Narcissa was holding out for her in her arms.

But she did. She had to.

It was the only way she knew how to keep them all safe.

And after only a moment's hesitation, Hermione handed a still soundly sleeping Scorpius to Narcissa before walking quietly out the back door. It wasn't an exit the others would be particularly pleased with when they woke and found her missing, but at least no one could hurt them here. Draco had already been tortured, Lucius was still struggling to walk, and both Harry and Ginny had their own children to worry about. So, leaving in the middle of the night, with Narcissa as her only ally, was her way of forcing their hands.

 _No one else dies,_ she whispered, pulling the hood of her dark black cloak over her head. _No one else gets hurt._

The moon was partially obstructed by the clouds in the sky, but enough of its glow was still peeking through for her to maneuver away from the small cottage without needing to illuminate her path. She moved quickly through the rocky terrain knowing that if anyone happened to wake up and look out the window there was little she could do to keep them from running after her. But the edge of the wards wasn't far now, and once she was outside of them, she'd be gone.

She felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck as she finally passed through the wards, and she paused for a moment, turning to glance back toward that cottage she could no longer see, toward the man sleeping soundly inside who had no idea what she had planned.

After Draco had fallen asleep, she hastily began to fortify her thoughts knowing that their bond would allow him to locate her if she didn't keep him out. She constructed an elaborate maze near the bridge between their minds, closing it with a wall so massive that it tickled the very edge of her consciousness, and by the time it was finished it had been time for to leave.

 _I'm so sorry Draco_ , she whispered.

He couldn't hear her, but she said it anyway because it was the truth. She was sorry. She had done exactly what he feared she'd do; she had seen it in his thoughts when he had finally come back inside. She was sorry she had left him behind. She was sorry she had gone behind his back, scheming with his mother while his tantrum ran its course outside. She was sorrier than she'd ever been about anything, but it was still the right thing to do.

And it was finally time to go.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused on the location she had memorized from the map now folded up neatly in her pocket. She felt her new power surge forward from somewhere deep within, and without needing to remove her wand from her pocket, without uttering a single word, she transported herself away.

She landed near a crumbling building buried deep in an old forest and shivered, her body reacting to her new surroundings before her head could catch up. At first glance, the scene in front of her wasn't all that strange. The building, which was obscured by layers of tangled foliage and debris, could have been something built by anyone slowly succumbing to the effects of neglect and time. There was nothing grand about the piles of rubble that littered the forest floor, and yet there was no mistaking the source of the heaviness in the air. The place, derelict or not, was so riddled with magic that her fingers were already tingling in anticipation.

The magic called to her, beckoning her to move forward, and she complied, not entirely sure why she suddenly felt so at ease. It was a strange sensation, convinced that she was safe with absolutely no evidence to prove that it was true, but something about the place just felt like home, and so she kept walking.

It was darker here than the cliffside she had left behind, and she moved slowly, carefully maneuvering around the chaotic collection of leaves, wood, and stone at her feet. There was no worn path, not even a track in the mud to indicate that anyone had been here recently, but she knew that meant very little. He could be here, he could be watching her from somewhere in the darkness, and she needed to be careful.

When she was finally close enough to the building to touch it with her hand, she paused, reaching out with her mind to check if anyone was inside. She wasn't sure what had prompted her to do it, but she also wasn't the least bit surprised when her new instincts guided her to tug at the buzzing in her head. In response, a tendril of magic moved outside of her mind, slithering outward as if it knew what to do without being told. The whole thing was so unexpected, and yet she didn't dwell on the discovery.

She pushed at the edges of the magical extension, urging it onward. But instead of moving forward as a single entity, the tendril split into a million tiny threads, each one a single, tiny thread of her own senses. They floated in front of her, hovering as if awaiting instruction, and she hesitated for only a moment before waving a hand to send them toward the building.

And what happened next was so overwhelming (and fascinating) that she had to close her eyes to deal with the torrent of new sensations flooding into her brain.

She felt the sharp edges of shattered rock near the back of the building, she smelled the damp soil on the ground, and she heard the heartbeats of the small animals lurking in the shadows. She saw the gaping hole in the roof, and she tasted the staleness in the air. All of these things and more she sensed, but the only thing she held any sort of attention for was the emptiness that surrounded her. She was alone.

Sighing in disappointment, she opened her eyes, quickly retracting the tiny treads back into her body.

_Where are you hiding Eirick?_

Dropping her hood, she ducked under a large rotting piece of wood to enter, what she could only assume, was a room once dedicated to ceremony. But even as broken and dilapidated as it was, something about it was still as awe inspiring as it undoubtedly had once been. She could make out a series of ornate carvings in a few pillars of stone standing upright around the side of the room. Some appeared to be small pieces of artwork, others appeared to be runes, but none of them held any sort of immediate meaning for her.

She took a few steps toward the nearest stone, crouching down to study the carvings more closely, but when she placed her hand against the surface, a small spark ignited under her fingertips causing her to jump back in surprise. A tingle began creeping its way up her arm, but for some reason, she wasn't afraid. She simply lifted her hand in front of her face and studied it as if it now held the answers she was looking for.

 _Strange_ , she observed silently. _It almost feels like..._

But before she had a chance to finish the thought, a swirl of wind surrounded her, dancing through her curls and lifting the edge of her robes into the air. The whoosh of rapidly moving air filled her ears, bringing with it the echoes of the forest outside and something that took her a few moments to identify as a symphony of whispers.

Human whispers.

She froze, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest as her eyes frantically searched the darkest corners of the room for any sign of life. The wind was still moving around her, but she barely noticed. The voices were getting louder; they were surrounding her, close enough that she thought she was going mad.

"Hello?" she called before she could stop herself.

The word had barely left her mouth when she felt a cold gust of wind move through her, sucking the air right out of her lungs.

 _You came_ , a feminine voice replied happily from somewhere in her head, and she blanched.

 _We weren't sure you'd be able to find us_ , another added, this one deeper and more masculine.

"Us?" Hermione asked out loud, shivering slightly as she felt a third consciousness dancing around in her head. "Who are you?"

Laughter echoed out in her head.

She should have been scared, at a bare minimum she should have been off-put by their sudden intrusion into her head, but other than a bit of hesitation she felt from the consciousness that still hadn't spoken, she couldn't sense any sort of malice emanating from any of them, and so she wasn't.

 _We certainly picked the right one_ , the first voice announced, its strange form moving seamlessly through Hermione's memories, fast-forwarding through every moment in her life so quickly that she had to reach out a hand to steady herself.

 _Of course we picked the right one_ , the second voice asserted as it settled itself on top of the wall Hermione had built to keep Draco out of her head. _There hasn't been a wielder like her in nearly two centuries._

 _And who's fault is that?_ the third voice finally chimed in, this one distinctly less friendly than the first two. It certainly didn't need to be attached to a physical form for Hermione to sense the eye roll that would have come with the statement. _I warned you what would happen if we didn't do something about him._

They didn't need to specify who they were talking about.

 _Hmph_ , came the reply from the voice on the wall.

 _Honestly,_ the first voice began, shuffling Hermione's memories back into place, _we don't have time for this. She's the one we've been waiting for. Her bloodline will carry the gift into the future._

_If she can survive long enough..._

"I can hear you," Hermione grumbled, deciding that if they were there to hurt her, they would have already done so. "And I'm not scared of him," she added, straightening herself upright.

_You should be._

The fear behind the statement was obvious, and she trembled slightly as she honed in on the new emotions swirling around in her head. They were all afraid… for her.

 _I'm terribly sorry, darling,_ the first voice said, realizing what her host had discovered and speaking before she had a chance to dig any further. _I do apologize. We haven't had anyone to talk to in quite a long time._

"How long exactly?" Hermione queried, running her fingers along the stone she had been inspecting before she had been interrupted. There were a million other questions running through her head, but this one seemed just as relevant as the rest.

Another laugh. _That depends entirely on what you would classify as conversation_ , the second voice replied, his chuckles vibrating against Hermione's skull. _The last few centuries have been unbearably bleak._

"Who are you?" Hermione asked again, hoping this time one of them would give her an answer. She moved along the edge of one of the walls, her eyes cast upward toward what remained of the roof. "And what is this place?"

 _Oh my, where are my manners?_ the first voice began. _My name is Thyra and this Halvor_ – she directed Hermione's attention to the consciousness still perched on the wall at the back of her mind – _and Runa_ – to the consciousness that had finally settled next to the first _. We're all former wielders of the power you now hold, and we're here to help guide you._ Thrya paused, giving Hermione a chance to digest the new information. _As for this place,_ _well, this is home._ she continued, projecting the familiar image of a young girl running through the woods. _I_ _t's where this all began._

"So, you're all Norse mages then?"

Another laugh.

 _Technically speaking, the Norse came after our time_ , Halvor told her. _A pity really. I think I would have enjoyed sailing to unknown lands across the sea._

 _We lived during a time when our people weren't referred to in that way_ , Thyra clarified. _But our bloodlines gave birth to them, so I suppose in a sense, we are._

"How old are you?" Hermione knew it was a bit crass to ask, but her curiosity got the better of her.

 _A few thousand years old_ , Halvor answered. _Plus a few thousand more_ , he added, a smirk of sorts buried within his words.

Hermione inhaled sharply.

 _I think I broke her_ , Halvor observed as her shock reverberated around them in her head, clearly amused that he had succeeded in unnerving her.

 _Well that's what happens when we let you speak_ , Runa retorted, her voice curt. _Why did we even bring him? She needs guidance not… whatever it is he's doing._

_Hey–_

_Be quiet, both of you, or I will make you leave,_ Thyra snapped. _Hermione darling, are you alright?_ she asked, her voice now laden with concern.

"Yes," Hermione answered, closing her eyes. "I knew this magic was old, but I guess I just wasn't expecting it to be quite that old."

 _Age is just a number, dóttir_ , Halvor assured her, clearly incapable of staying quiet even when threatened with expulsion from his new host's mind. _But even you must realize that we've been dead a long time. No one lives forever._

 _Yes, yes, and death is just the next big adventure_ , Runa cut in. Like Halvor, she was clearly unable to help herself. _These are all things she already knows, Halvor. You're wasting time._

 _Never presume, elskan mín_ , Halvor said sweetly.

Hermione heard Thyra sigh, and for a moment she thought Thyra might actually make good on her threat, but she returned her attention to Hermione. _Your magic – and yes, it is yours – is indeed very old_ , she said, her voice less irritated than it had been a minute ago. _In any other circumstance, you would have had years to prepare before coming into your power, years to learn about our history, about where we come from and who we are, but since you aren't a member of our bloodline, we weren't able to contact you until you found your way here._

"And when you said my bloodline will carry the gift into the future…"

 _A new age of wielders will be born from you_ , Thyra explained. _From your blood._

Blood. Why did it always come back to blood?

"My son – so, the gift really will be his one day?" Hermione asked despite already knowing the answer.

 _Yes_ , Runa told her. _And as the first wielder of your line, any child you have will likely be gifted with the power as well._

 _Wonderful_ , Hermione groaned, forgetting they could hear her thoughts.

"All I wanted was a normal life," she muttered under her breath. "Just a normal fucking life."

Halvor laughed. _Well, therein lies your problem,_ he managed after a moment. _You're anything but normal._

"How reassuring," Hermione replied somewhat angrily.

The voices were quiet for a moment, giving Hermione the mental space that she needed to process the things they had told her.

"Why me?" she asked, finally uttering the words that had been bothering her the most. "Why did you pick me?"

 _If you really have to ask,_ Halvor began softly _, then I'm afraid we've already failed_.

"I'm not– I didn't ask for power. I don't need it," Hermione mumbled.

 _Which is precisely why it is now yours to wield_ , Thyra assured her. _I didn't want it either when it came to me. It took me years to accept that it was even real. And unlike the others, I didn't have anyone to explain it to me._

"Wait," Hermione began as realization set in. "But that means… you're the girl I saw in the visions?"

Halvar laughed again, this time leaping off the wall and settling himself next to the others. _Oh look, she's starstruck._

 _Hush, Halvar,_ Thyra admonished before returning her attention to Hermione. _Yes, dear. That was me._

"I have so many questions."

 _I know you do_ , Thyra replied. _And when this is all over, I will have the time to answer them all._

"Eirick," Hermione whispered, suddenly remembering why she was there.

The three voices in her head hissed in unison, the sound ringing uncomfortably in her ears.

 _A disgrace_ , Thyra said.

 _An abomination_ , Halvor agreed.

A plague, Runa added angrily.

"I know what he did," Hermione began, her voice trembling with anger that wasn't just her own, "I know who he killed to become who he is."

 _To stay who he is_ , Runa corrected, her voice harsh.

"Why did no one stop him?" Hermione asked, trying to ignore the venom in Runa's voice. "Why was he allowed to live?"

The voices were quiet for a moment.

 _Our bloodline were corrupted long before he was born_ , Thyra replied finally. _He is simply a product of generations that had become too obsessed with power and greed. By the time we realized what was happening, it was already too late._

"I don't understand."

 _Ahh, but I think you do_ , Halvor noted. _You've encountered evil before. You know how misplaced ideologies can infect those that have been taught nothing else._

"So you're saying it didn't start with him? That he wasn't the first to try to keep his power?"

 _Of course not,_ Runa insisted. _But he will be the last._

"I need to find him," Hermione told them. "I need to stop him before he hurts anyone else."

 _That's why we're here_ , Thrya said. _We know where he is._

"Show me," Hermione demanded, her voice calmer than she actually felt.

 _We can do you one better_ , Halvor told her. _We can take you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to my very first midnight posting! I hope you enjoyed reading the bit with the ancestors as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have multiple bottles of bubbly and obscenely large supply of Doritos to get me through a serious writing marathon this week, so hopefully you won't have to wait too terribly long for the next update.
> 
> So many wonderful reviews have come in over the past couple weeks – y'all seriously are going to make me cry before this is all over. Kudos to SnakePrincess101, GoodGirlsBadBoys00, Neekah, and Jasmineprnc for succeeding in making me blush uncontrollably after reading your kind words.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> dóttir (old norse, Icelandic) = daughter
> 
> elskan mín (old norse) ~ my love


	28. The Voice in His Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **cw:** gore below.
> 
> Songs – Yellow Flicker Beat by Lorde, My Hero by Foo Fighters, and Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin

Something woke him. He wasn't sure what, but he could have sworn someone had been whispering in his ear. Hermione perhaps, talking in her sleep again. It was bloody adorable when she did that.

Draco rolled over on to his side, reaching over to wrap his arms around his wife – his beautiful, stubborn as fuck wife – but frowned when his arm landed heavily the bed, her body not where he expected it to be.

 _Strange_ , he thought, opening his eyes. _She told me I could take the first feeding._

He stared at the unoccupied space next to him for a moment before sitting up, stretching his limbs as he glanced over at the bassinet, which was, as he expected, also empty.

_Bloody difficult that woman. Insists on doing everything herself._

A laugh suddenly penetrated the silence, and he froze, for a moment unsure if he had actually heard what he thought he'd heard. He was tired; he could have just imagined it, but the prickling of raised hairs on the back of his neck indicated otherwise.

No, he wasn't hearing things; it had definitely been real.

Slowly, he reached under his pillow, his fingers closing around his wand, and he waited, breathing heavily as his eyes darted nervously around the room.

Another chuckle.

Draco leapt out of bed, extending his wand in front of him as he spun around on trying to locate the source of the sound.

 _If you don't mind, I'd prefer it if you'd put that horrid thing down_ , a voice told him.

The blood drained from Draco's face, and two things became utterly apparent to him at the same time. First, someone, and he had no idea fucking who, was rummaging around in his head, greedily devouring some of his memories as if they were its first meal after a long and lengthy fast. And second, although he didn't wait around for confirmation that the voice was a threat to anyone but himself, was that he needed to tell Hermione to run.

_Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you…_

But Draco didn't care what the voice had to say. He threw open the bedroom door and raced down the hallway toward the kitchen where he figured she'd be, hastily throwing up a cage around where the intruder had made itself comfortable among some of his more benign childhood memories.

 _Or, you know, do_ , the voice added sarcastically, rattling against its cage. _I'll be right here when your little tantrum is over._

Words – a hurried warning – were perched on the edge of his tongue, and Draco realized too late that he should have shouted them as soon as he threw open the bedroom door. He nearly slammed into the corner of the wall as he turned the corner, but when he skidded to halt in the middle of kitchen with nothing but his briefs and his wand, his fear was replaced with confusion.

"Mother?" he asked, his eyes falling on the figure seated at the kitchen table.

Narcissa jumped. "Oh, Draco darling," she began, turning to face him, her eyes narrowing in concern at his state of distress, "you startled me."

Draco's eyes dropped to his mother's lap, and it was then that he noticed she was holding something in her arms. Scorpius.

 _Oh, this is going to be good_ , the voice mused, settling itself against the back of its prison.

"Someone got past my defenses," Draco said quickly, cringing as laughter once again echoed out in his head. "Hermione – where is she? I need to get her out of here!"

Narcissa frowned, her eyes immediately searching the dark hallway behind her son. "Hermione is gone," she said quietly, tightening her hold on the infant in her arms. "Are the others–?"

"What do you mean gone?" he croaked, for the briefest of moments forgetting about the voice sitting behind a set of makeshift bars in his head. "Where the fuck did she go?"

_Do try not to pass out when she gives you the news._

"Shut up," Draco growled angrily, immediately conjuring a pile of bricks to further encase the voice within.

"Draco?" Narcissa asked, her voice trembling as she watched her son's eyes glaze over and his head twitch as he struggled with something she couldn't see.

He didn't answer right away; all of his attention was now focused on trapping the intruder behind his mental brick and mortar. One brick at a time, he began to construct a wall in front of the cage, creating a simple but effective pattern. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face as he concentrated, pausing the construction every so often to check that the structure was still stable. It wasn't as sophisticated as the walls he'd once built to keep Voldemort from accessing memories that would have gotten both him and his family killed – those took significantly more time than he currently had at his disposal – but he hoped it would be enough until he could attempt something more permanent.

When he felt the last brick slip into place, cutting off the soft snickers that had been mocking him since he had started, he finally pointed to his head, and Narcissa, being well versed in the mental warfare her husband and son had been subjected to in the past, nodded quickly in understanding. But it was only after he threw the entire weight of his consciousness at the hastily constructed wall, testing its strength one final time, that he met his mother's worried gaze and motioned that it was safe for them to talk.

"Hermione isn't here," she told him, her voice quiet. "She left a couple of hours ago."

The words took a moment to sink in, but when they did, Draco saw red.

"SHE DID WHAT!?" he shouted, his voice ringing out across the cottage.

 _Oh wow. Remind me to help you sort through these anger issues when this is all over_ , the voice said as the newly constructed wall came crumbling down.

But Draco didn't hear a single one of those words. He didn't hear the collapse of the wall. He didn't hear the sounds of doors flying open in the hallway. He didn't hear Harry come running into the kitchen, shouting for Ginny and Andromeda to stay back, or the hurried shuffle of his father's feet. He didn't hear the sudden cries of his son. The only thing he heard was a furious buzzing that accompanied the rushing of blood to his head.

 _You might want to say something_ , the voice began, shouting over the static in Draco's ears. _The whole 'I may or may not have just had a stroke' thing is really not a good look for you._

Overall, it wasn't actually terrible advice, and Draco, despite every bone in his body telling him not to trust whoever was speaking to him, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

_See, that wasn't so hard._

Draco ignored the retort. He wasn't calm, but he was calm enough to remember the bridge in the back of his mind and rushed to it, desperately hoping that Hermione hadn't already built something to keep him out. Holding his breath, he pushed through the barrier, ready to call her name, ready to beg her to come back, and then he saw it. A maze. She had built a fucking maze.

And knowing Hermione, that wasn't the only thing she had constructed to keep him out.

 _Oh, dear_ , the voice said as Draco retreated back across the bridge, the smidgen of calm he had been able to muster evaporating away.

"Where is Hermione, mother?" Draco asked again, quickly opening his eyes and angrily shoving the voice to the side.

He wanted to punch something. He wanted to set something – a few somethings – on fire. He wanted to flip the table and scream until the windows around him shattered. But the tiny face peeking out of his mother's arms stopped him, and instead, he settled for imagining the havoc, his entire body tense from the restraint.

Narcissa opened her mouth, then shut it, her eyes flickering to her husband who was studying her oddly from his position in the doorway, his hand shaking slightly as he braced himself against his cane.

"She went to find him – the Aescling," she said finally, looking back at her son, her eyes lingering over the obvious tightness in his neck.

Draco stopped breathing for a moment. Some part of him had known that's what Hermione had done, he'd been terrified that she would leave without him since he had read the blasted letter, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. Hearing his mother confirm it, seeing the pained look in her eyes as she told him the truth was more than he had been prepared for, and a sharp pain erupted in his chest.

He clutched the spot above his heart, struggling to inhale a full breath, and he realized that he wasn't sure what was worse: his anger with her for leaving or his guilt for being the one who had pushed her to do it.

"Why would–" Draco managed finally, but paused, something finally clicking in his brain. "You helped her, didn't you? You let her go?!"

_I did try to warn you._

_I'll fucking deal with you in a second_ , Draco told the voice, conjuring another brick and chucking it toward the dark corner it was still lurking in.

_Well, that was a bit immature. But fine, I'll wait._

"Mother?" Draco prompted, his hands shaking at his sides. "Answer me."

He could barely focus on anything other than the news that Hermione had left in the middle of the night to go fight a deranged wizard on her own, and his mother's part in her ploy, but he was also acutely aware the voice had willingly retreated, waiting politely for him to deal with the emotions that he was currently drowning in. And even though he wasn't naïve enough to drop his guard entirely or stupid enough to pretend that the intruder wasn't still a threat, it was the only goddamn comforting thing about the entire situation.

Draco glared at his mother, watching as she lifted her chin defiantly in the air.

"Of course, I helped her," she said, meeting his icy glare with one of her own. "You were never going to let her go."

"I was trying to protect her," he said, his voice nearly a shout. "How could you just let her go after him alone?!"

He didn't try to fight the sudden uptick in his heartbeat. Angry didn't even begin to describe how he felt. No word in the English language could, and there was really no sense in attempting to control it.

Narcissa pursed her lips together, visible torn between defending her actions with Hermione and supporting her son.

"Draco," Harry said, taking a step into the room and placing a hand on his friend's shoulders. But Draco shrugged it away, his hands balled into fists so tight that his arms were shaking under the strain.

"How could you do this to me?" he demanded, ignoring the troubled frown on Harry's face as he backed away. "How could you just sit here–" he paused, sucking in a breath "–and let her walk out the door?"

"A mother will do anything to protect her family," Narcissa said quietly, repeating her words from the previous day.

"And I wouldn't?" Draco countered, clenching his jaw.

"She didn't want to risk losing you," she told him. "She didn't want to risk losing any of you," she added as he glanced over her son's shoulder toward Harry and Lucius.

 _But I can't lose her_ , he wanted to scream.

Draco's vision blurred, and he closed his eyes to fight back the tears threatening to escape down the sides of his face. "Please, tell me where she went," he begged, his voice heavy with fear. "If she dies and I didn't even try to protect her…" he dropped his head to his hands. "Fuck," he choked out.

Narcissa studied him for a moment, tears now filling her own eyes. "Take your son, Draco," she said softly, standing up from her position at the table. "He's the one who needs protection now."

Draco opened his eyes slowly and calmed as his eyes fell on the bundle in his mother's arms. _Scorpius._ He wanted to hold him, he wanted to take him back to his room and ward it so heavily that no one could enter or leave, but he couldn't. Not now. His son wouldn't be safe with him so long as there was still a voice in his head, and so he resisted the urge to grab Scorpius and run, instead shaking his head and pointing at his temple.

"Keep everyone away from me until I deal with this," he instructed, realizing that he had risked too much already by letting the voice linger freely as long as it had. He turned to face his father. "Be ready to leave," he added solemnly, his words purposely vague. His didn't need to translate; his father would know what he really meant. _If this goes poorly, you need to get them all out of here._

"What–?" Harry began, but Lucius pulled him back into that hallway and nodded at his son, Draco's gesture telling him all he needed to know.

"Narcissa," he called, motioning for her to follow them out of the room.

 _Well,_ _I think now might be as good a time as any to tell you that I'm not here to hurt anyone_ , the voice disclosed as Draco watched his mother hurry about the room, Scorpius buried tightly in her arms. _Congratulations, by the way. He really is the spitting image of you._

 _And why should I listen to someone who broke into my fucking head_? Draco snapped in response, immediately initiating an attack.

He probed the source of the voice with the sharp edges of his own consciousness, gritting his teeth together under the strain. Occlumency was a sophisticated kind of warfare, one he was well-versed in, but it had been years since he had needed to go on the defensive in his own mind, and he could already feel the familiar rush of exhaustion that came with trying to do too much too fast.

 _Firstly, that really isn't_ necessary, the voice said as it slipped easily – a little too easily – out of Draco's grasp. Secondly, I _didn't break into anything. I merely followed the maze. The name's Frode by the way. If you care._

 _I'm a little busy right now,_ Draco growled, trying to attack the voice from another angle, beads of sweat building on his forehead as he conjured a series of sharp objects and sent them flying toward its new position. _So, if you could just fuck off and save me all this trouble, that'd be great_.

 _Fine,_ Frode replied, swooping toward the bridge at the back of Draco's mind. _I'll just go back to the others and help your wife._

Draco choked and paused his attack, letting the shards of mental glass fall to the floor. _What did you just say?_

_I thought you wanted me to – what did you call it – fuck off?_

_No, what do you mean 'help my wife'?_

_Oh, yes. Your_ wife, Frode began, moving away from the bridge. The _others will be with her now – or they should. I didn't actually wait around to make sure they made contact._

 _What others?_ Draco asked, his body shaking again, this time with an overwhelming sense of fear. _The fuck is going on?_ he thought, too confused to care if the voice had heard that too.

 _Her ancestors of_ course, Frode explained as if Draco should know what he was talking about. _Wait no, that's not entirely accurate. Her forebearers? Ugh, that just doesn't sound as cool. Incredibly ancient ones? Oh, Halvor would love that. Too bad he's not here. Oh, I know – her guardian angels! Bollocks, that's not right either. Well, we'll just have to work on that. Anyway, they're with her._

_Alright, you're starting to piss me off. Either tell me where Hermione is or I'll–_

Frode laughed, reading Draco's thoughts before he could articulate them. _I'd like to see you try._

Draco threw his head back, rubbing his brow as if to fight off an impending headache. He was annoyed, tremendously, but even so, it was becoming abundantly clear that Frode's intentions were not what he would have expected from someone who had managed to infiltrate his heavily guarded mind without him noticing.

 _Are you this difficult with everyone whose mind you invade?_ he asked finally.

 _You're my first_ , Frode admitted happily. _The others have always found me a bit too over eager for these kinds of things, but they needed a fourth, so here I am!_

Draco groaned, dropping his head to his hand. _Wonderful. I'm dealing with a fucking amateur._

 _They're going to help her_ , Frode told him, ignoring the snippy comment.

_The ancestors?_

_Yes, the_ ancestors, Frode said, clearly exacerbated. Who _else would I be talking about?_

 _And who might I have the pleasure of being stuck with?_ Draco inquired, deciding to throw any bit of diplomacy out of the window. He wasn't exactly in the right mental state for niceties.

_Frode. Honestly, my boy, are you quite alright? We've been over this._

_I know what your names_ is, Draco assured the voice somewhat angrily. I _meant what the fuck are you?_

 _The one who was sent to collect you_.

 _You say that like it actually answers my question_ , Draco replied, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. _And collect me? I'm not a fucking porcelain doll._

 _Well, it's the only answer that matters,_ Frode affirmed, projecting a set of moving images behind Draco's eyes. _I'm here to collect you… for the battle._

The images moved quickly, and Draco couldn't quite make out what was happening as each one flew by, but there was no mistaking the identity of the man who was center stage in all of them.

 _HIM_ , Draco growled, his fury returning like a freight train.

 _Oh, good. You two are already acquainted_ , Frode observed, pausing the dizzying shuffle of images. _Saves us some time._

 _I'm going to rip that motherfucker's heart out,_ Draco seethed.

 _That's the spirit!_ Frode exclaimed excitedly, trying (and failing miserably) to mirror Draco's mood. _Now, if you don't mind, put some damn pants on. Can't have your bits falling out in the middle of a well-deserved murder!_

 _Frode,_ Draco began as he sprinted to his room, shouting Harry's name in between ragged breaths, _I really hope you have a better battle cry._

_Oh, I think you'll be quite surprised._

* * *

Hermione landed more roughly than she anticipated, stumbling slightly as she tried to adjust to sudden end of the near vomit-inducing transport from the Norse temple.

 _Sorry dear_ , Thyra apologized, sensing her disorientation. _Forgot to mention that it would probably be a tad bumpy on the descent. It's always tricky borrowing someone else's magic, and I needed to use some of yours so we could slip past his alarms undetected._

 _Oh, that's alright_ , Hermione replied, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she straightened herself out. _You'll have to teach me how to do that one day_ , she added, smiling weakly.

 _Of course_ , Thyra promised. _That and so much more._

Finally recovered, Hermione took a moment to take in her new surroundings. She was standing at the edge of another dense forest, her cloaked form blending conveniently with the shadows of the surrounding trees. It was almost silent, but a quiet rustling drew her eyes to the small meadow which extended outward in front of her. The sun hadn't risen yet, but the beginnings of a new day were peeking out of the horizon, illuminating the sky with a dull, orange glow through which she could just make out the outline of a small house on the other side of the field.

 _This is really where he's been hiding?_ she asked, surprised at the un-grandness of it all. _It's almost…_

 _Calming_? Halvor offered, chuckling. _I'm sure he thought he was being clever by coming to a place like this._

 _Clever he most certainly is not,_ Runa snorted. _He couldn't even handle a few dead ancestors. We sent him running from the temple with his tail between his legs years ago._

 _It was really one of your better hauntings, elskan mín,_ Halvor noted as he nestled himself next to Runa. _You were in rare form._

 _Thank you_ , Runa replied, and Hermione swore she could feel the spirit blushing.

 _The things I would do_ –

 _Oh for goodness sake_ , Thyra exclaimed, cutting Halvor off before he could elaborate. _Now is not the time for lustful declarations_. She paused, mumbling something that Hermione couldn't quite make out. _Hermione, darling,_ she continued after a moment, _are you ready?_

Hermione nodded quickly, but she couldn't hide the small tremble in her hands. _How will I know what to do?_

 _Your power grants you quite a bit of freedom in how you choose conjure things_ , Thyra explained, trying to reassure her. _Of course, we will be here to help, but if, for example, you want to conjure fire, you need only to ask for it._

 _And other spells_ – _the ones I already know?_ Hermione asked as she chewed nervously on her lip. _Will they still react the same way?_

 _Impressively so. They'll be quite amplified_ , Halvor told her.

 _What about Norse spells?_ she continued. _I don't know anything about them._

 _Those we can dictate to you as needed_ , Thyra replied.

 _But don't worry about confining your attacks to things bound to specific words, even Norse ones,_ Runa instructed. _Those kinds of spells will always be more predictable, and they'll be easier for Eirick to fight off._

 _And don't worry too much about the physicality of things_ , Halvor continued, answering her next question before she could ask it. _Trust your instincts._

 _Instincts_ , Hermione repeated, a little unsure. _Right._

 _I know this is a lot_ , Thyra said apologetically. _But just remember, you were chosen for a reason._

Hermione swallowed heavily.

Dumbledore had called it destiny, and perhaps it was; she just wasn't quite sure that was the right way to describe it. Because maybe it was nothing more than a cosmic accident, an explosive collision of two magical souls resulting from the cumulative unpredictability of others. If she had been born in any other hospital, on any other day, the power's lineage wouldn't have passed to her. If the Aescling hadn't been corrupted, if he had walked even a slightly different path, there wouldn't have been a need for any of this. But all of those things had happened, and ultimately it didn't really matter whether, in this very moment, she believed in destiny or not; the circumstances were the same. She was still standing at the edge of a forest, talking to the voices in her head.

 _So, wards first, and Eirick second?_ Hermione asked, forcing herself to smile.

 _Yes,_ Runa replied. _But it won't take you very long to take down the wards. They're quite… rudimentary._

Curious to see for herself, Hermione closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind like she did at the temple until she felt resistance in the air. The edge of the wards were only a few paces in front of her, and as she zoomed in on the detail of the barrier, the buzzing of the magic became louder and louder, until it was all she could hear. She could feel the weakness, see where the magic that was now flowing in her veins would have woven in to create an impenetrable wall, and quite suddenly, she wasn't so afraid anymore.

She could do this. First the wards, then him. It really was that easy.

 _Patience_ , Thyra warned as Hermione's fingers began to spark in anticipation. _We need to wait for the signal._

Hermione's focus snapped inward, and her eyes flew open. _What do you mean? What signal?_

 _We're waiting on someone_ , Thyra explained, moving toward the wall that Hermione had constructed in the back of her mind, perching herself near the top.

 _Someone?_ Hermione repeated, confused. The voices hadn't mentioned anything about someone joining them at the temple.

 _You don't need to worry_ , Thyra assured her, reading the shift in Hermione's thoughts. _It's someone you know._

 _Someone I_ –

But a deep, melodic sound interrupted her.

 _Ahh, I did wonder if Frode would remember the horn_ , Halvor said excitedly.

_Frode?_

The sound repeated, this time louder, its ring rattling Hermione's bones, and Thyra swooped off the wall.

 _He's going to be insufferable for eternity now,_ Runa groaned, but even she could hide her excitement.

 _What is going_ –

The third time was louder still, the force of the noise toppling over the maze and wall at the back of Hermione's mind.

 _Now, Hermione!_ Thyra shouted, not waiting for the ringing to stop. _Take the wards down now!_

Hermione didn't hesitate. She raised a hand in the air, her fingers already tingling with her magic, and conjured a bolt of lightning so bright that she had to shield her eyes as it came barreling down toward the wards. When it made contact, a spectacular explosion lit up the meadow, and she quickly threw up a shield to protect herself from the sparks raining down around her.

 _Beautiful_ , Halvor noted. _He'll be flying out that door in 3, 2…_

And right on cue, the Aescling appeared, his eyes fixed on the location of the explosion across the field.

Hermione studied him from the shadows for a moment, catching a flash of terror and worry on his face, before walking forward into the meadow and dropping her hood.

"Hello, Eirick," she said, her voice steady and calm.

"Well, well," he called back, immediately locking his beady gaze on her. "Look who finally came out to play."

"It's over," she told him, her hands twitching as sparks danced between her fingertips.

"Is that what they told you?" he replied, his smirk evident even from afar. "They've always been fantastic liars."

 _He's toying with you_ , Halvor said quietly. _Don't let him get under your skin. Stay focused._

"The power is mine," she said, raising a hand and pushing the sparks outward for a bit of show and tell. "You can't control it anymore."

Eirick laughed. "And if I kill you?" he said, taking a few steps toward her, a wand suddenly appearing in his hand. "What do you think happens to it then?"

 _It doesn't matter what happens then_ , Runa assured her. _You're stronger than him. This is a fight that he can't win._

"The point is a bit moot, don't you think?" Hermione retorted, moving slightly to her left. "You won't be able to kill me."

"We'll see about that," Eirick taunted.

A silent curse came flying at her, and she blocked with ease, quickly redirecting it into the forest behind her. She conjured a small flame in the palm of her hand, preparing to throw it at him in response, but faltered as a flash of platinum hair came into view between the trees that were situated closest to the house.

_Draco?_

_Send it now!_ a familiar voice commanded, and she did, smiling as the flame shot across the field.

It didn't matter that the Aescling managed to block the fire, and it didn't matter that he retaliated with a spell of his own – one which she avoided with little effort – because the someone Thyra had told her they were waiting for was her fucking husband. And she hadn't realized how much she needed him with her through his until she heard his voice in her head.

 _How did you get here?_ Hermione asked as she sent a few more flames careening toward the man. She didn't dare take her eyes off her target lest she give away Draco's position, but her heart swelled knowing that her husband was there.

 _A talkative little fucker – mind your left_ (she did, spinning gracefully on her feet) _– named Frode_ , Draco told her. _Harry's with me._

Lifting both of her hands in the air, Hermione pushed a powerful gust of wind across the meadow, watching as it raced toward the man.

 _Heads up_ , she warned Draco before it hit the house, swearing under her breath when she saw that Eirick had managed to escape it. _Tell, Harry I say hello_ , she added a bit too cheerfully.

_Tell him – Merlin, Hermione. This is not a telephone call._

_Well, are you just going to hide there or are you going to help?_ she asked him as she blocked another spell, her shield glowing blue as it absorbed the energy that had been sent to incapacitate her.

 _They have another task_. The voice was Thyra's this time. _Try bardargi._

Hermione complied, raising a finger to release the spell with a low whisper while brushing a curl from her eyes with the other hand.

 _You're going for Theo_ , she said as the bright red light of her spell spun toward Eirick, colliding roughly with his hastily drawn shield and knocking him onto a knee.

 _Yes_ , Draco confirmed quickly. _If he's here. If he's alive._

Hermione could sense Draco's impatience and worry through their bond. And he couldn't hide the fact that, even though he was supposed to be finding a way into the house to search for Theo, he was struggling with the idea of leaving her to battle the Aescling on her own. So, she decided to force his hand.

 _I'll cover you_ , she replied, conjuring a small ball of electricity. _I'll draw him into the field and create a distraction so you and Harry can slip inside without him noticing._

 _Hermione_ –

 _I'll be fine,_ she assured him, cutting him off before he could protest while she blocked another of Eirick's spells. _Just wait for the pretty, big bright bang._

 _I like her_ , a new voice announced. _I can see why you chose to impregnate her._

 _For fuck's sake, Frode!_ Draco exclaimed. _Now is not the time!_

Hermione quickly pulled away from their conversation, holding back a giggle, and refocused her attention on the man on the other side of the field. "Is this really the best you've got?" she shouted, tilting her head threateningly.

Purposely provoking anyone into a fit of anger was entirely out of character for her, but she felt a strange sort of enjoyment in manipulating someone to react the way that she wanted – especially this man. No wonder Draco loved goading Harry so much at Hogwarts; it was exhilarating.

Instead of replying, Eirick wiped the side of his face and took another step toward her – another step away from Draco and Harry – and twirled his wand in his hands.

 _Good, keep coming you fucker_ , she thought, smirking as the ball rotated above her hand, growing in size.

 _And to think, she didn't believe she had it in her_ , Halvor remarked, chuckling.

 _Shut up and let her focus_ , Runa quickly chided.

"How does it feel to know that you've failed?" Hermione continued, resisting the urge to shake her head at the voices, the ball now the size of a Quaffle. "That the ancestors chose me, a muggle-born baby who hadn't even grown into her magic yet, over you?"

The Aescling's lips twitched, and she smiled, watching as he took another step toward her. She'd hit the right nerve.

"You're not special," she told him, gaining confidence as she spoke. "And now look at you. You're nobody."

A growl escaped the man's throat and he spun, slashing his wand angrily in the air, and in the same breath, Hermione finally released the ball.

 _Go!_ she told Draco.

The ball collided with the spell seconds later, triggering a large eruption of white-hot sparks that rained out over the meadow. It wasn't a particularly effective attack, although a few of the sparks did manage to land directly on Eirick's face, but it was definitely the perfect diversion, and Hermione held her breath as she watched Draco and Harry run inside the house, exhaling only when they were safely inside.

 _You're doing beautifully_ , Thyra told her. _Frode will help keep them safe._

"I have to admit," Hermione began when Eirick glared at her again, the skin around his eyes red and irritated from the sparks that had hit him. "I really expected a lot more from you."

"Oh, you want more?" he replied, raising his wand in the air.

 _Hermione, shield!_ Runa yelled.

But she was too slow. She had missed the small movement in Eirick's other hand, and a curse slammed into her chest before she could finish conjuring her shield, knocking the wind out of her. She blinked, stumbling slightly on her feet, and realized that her sudden loss of breath was the least of her worries.

The blood trickling down her chest was tad bit more worrisome than a few lost breaths.

 _Oh, fuck this arsehole_ , she growled, pausing only to heal herself with a spell Thyra had called out before launching another attack.

* * *

"Do you see anything?" Draco asked as he ran his fingers along the wall, frantically searching for evidence of a hidden room or door.

He knew Hermione could keep the Aescling distracted, but if Theo was still alive, there was no telling how long they had until the Aescling decided to bait Hermione into doing something reckless, and so they needed to move fast.

"I don't fucking see anything," Harry replied indignantly, the light at the end of his wand pointed at the floor.

Draco swore, racing over to the next interior wall, searching for anything – a crack that didn't belong, a wisp of air that didn't make sense, even a speck of paint that was out of place – that could lead them to a hidden room. But there was nothing.

 _He always had a thing for dungeons_ , Frode told Draco, which although a helpful bit of information was not exactly how Draco would have phrased it. _There has to be an entrance to one in here somewhere._

 _We're fucking looking!_ Draco replied crossly.

 _Well, look fucking harder_ , Frode retorted which was followed almost immediately by deluge of mental bricks.

 _Next time it will be knives_ , Draco warned him.

"Draco!" Harry called, tearing the blond away from the stand-off in his head. "I think there's something here."

Draco raced over and found Harry with his face pressed to the ground, his eyes following an unnatural line in the wood. Following suit, Draco dropped to the floor, running his fingers over the worn floorboards until they brushed against a small, almost imperceptible seam in the wood. He followed it until he found a corner, and then another, and once he found all four, he didn't need any more convincing.

"I don't see a way to open it," Harry noted, sitting upright so he could sweep the light at the end of his wand over the area again.

 _It's likely sealed with a spell_ , Frode interjected. _There are a few we could try to unlock it without causing any damage, but_ –

 _No time_ , Draco replied, lifting his wand to cast a quick silencing charm. "Harry, move!"

Harry caught the determined, almost manic look in Draco's eyes and jumped to his feet, conjuring a shield in front of the two of them as he backed toward the wall. The next step was obvious to both of them.

"Do it," Harry said, nodding quickly.

"Bombarda!" Draco shouted without a moment's hesitation.

The floor in front of them exploded, sending splinters of wood into the air, a few of which collided roughly with Harry's shield while the rest landed harmlessly around the room. Without waiting for the dust to settle, Draco took a step forward, impatiently squinting through the haze toward the hole in the ground before crouching down to peer into the darkness below. Harry moved next to him, his wand raised to illuminate their view, and then it hit them. A terrible, sickening smell.

There was blood down there. And there was a lot of it.

Before either of them could caution the other about the risks of doing something rash and stupid, they were both jumping into the hole.

The two men landed heavily on their feet, lucky that the drop hadn't been more than a few feet because neither of them in their hast had bothered to cast anything to cushion their fall. The room was dark, the only light coming from Harry's wand, and eerily quiet, but the scent of blood was now so overwhelming that both men could taste its metallic tang on their tongues.

 _Oh my_ , Frode said quietly, for once completely at a loss for words.

Swallowing heavily, Draco raised a shaky hand to illuminate the room.

And when he finally saw the scene that awaited him in the shadows, he regretted ever casting the spell.

The carnage was horrifying.

Theo's body sat crumpled and unmoving in a corner, one hand chained up against the wall while the other was folded awkwardly in front of him. His face and bare chest were covered in blood, as was the floor beneath him, and there were a series of deep, oozing wounds on his abdomen. His legs were curled underneath him, as if he had at some point tried to make himself as small as possible, but even partially obscured, Draco could see that the bones in them were twisted and broken.

Draco took a step forward, teetering dangerously on his feet, and it was then that he recognized why only one of Theo's arms were shackled to the wall. The hand on the other was missing.

The fucker had cut it off.

"Is he–?" But Harry couldn't finish the words; he doubled over and vomited on the floor.

Draco fought back the bile in his own throat as he fell to his knees in front of his friend. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.

He had failed. Theo was gone.

"We're too late," he murmured, choking back a sob. "We're too fucking late."

 _No_ , Frode said suddenly. _He's not dead. Not yet. But he will be if you don't do exactly as I say._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went back and forth about adding the next bit of the battle in this chapter, but it would have just been far too long (plus, I'm tired, Dorito'd out, and really just wanted to post this). Anyways - two more chapters to go, and I can promise you a bit of resolution in the next one.
> 
> Can't thank everyone enough for all your support these past few months! Your reviews, follows, likes, etc. make this whole journey worth it.
> 
> Shoutouts to TheLadyPotter for intuiting that the ancestors would be able to talk to Draco, and to HarryPGinnyW4eva for the cream cheese tip (it was a wonderfully horrible idea and I'm now obsessed).
> 
> Translation: bardargi (old norse) ~ beating, trashing; fight, battle


	29. Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **cw:** more gore below.
> 
> Songs (another four-fer) - Dragula (Si Non Oscillas, Noli Tintinnare Remix) by Rob Zombie, Natural Blues by Moby, Numb/Encore by JAY-Z and Linkin Park, and you should see me in a crown by Billie Eilish
> 
> I honestly think this is my weirdest song grouping of the entire story, so uhh… enjoy(?)

Casting had never been this easy, this natural. She certainly had never felt as comfortable in a battle as she did now, and the feeling was almost unsettling. Everything was suddenly so simple, so intuitive.

Dodge.

Attack.

Shield.

Attack harder.

The ease at which she was holding off the Aescling both surprised and intrigued her. She had always attributed her proficiency with magic to dedicated practice and tireless repetition, but this – the way she was dancing around the meadow casting spells she had neither heard of nor thought possible – couldn't be attributed to anything even remotely familiar. It seemed that her gift had granted her with more than just power; it had also given her a kind of confidence that she rarely felt away from her books and research. And it was invigorating.

Was this how it had been for Harry?

 _Probably_ , Runa replied, having read her thoughts. _But I doubt it was ever this easy, even for him._

Hermione ducked gracefully, sending another set of flames across the meadow.

Someone laughed. Thyra. _She's definitely a natural_ , she noted, speaking to the others as Hermione lashed out again with a particularly strong stunning spell. _I doubt we could have picked someone better suited for the gift._

 _And imagine what she'll be able to do with a bit of training_ , Halvor added, projecting an image of Hermione catching lightning in the palms of her hands.

 _Now that,_ Hermione began, smirking as she blocked another one of the Aescling's spells, _looks like way too much fun._

There was a strange sort of calm that came with her newfound confidence, accompanied by an unfamiliar vigor. Where once, she might have hesitated trying to think of the right spell or the next move on the theoretical chessboard, now she only paused her attacks to heed a warning from one of the voices in her head or to throw up a shield when her feet weren't quick enough to pull her out of harm's way.

She fucking knew what she was doing. And he wasn't going to stop her.

Shield.

Attack.

Attack again, quickly.

Shield.

 _Yes, you certainly do_ , Thyra noted, amused. _And no, he won't._

Each step Hermione took was methodical, a well-planned ruse to lure the Aescling away from the house – away from the two men inside. Since she had taken the curse to the chest, he hadn't managed to catch her off guard, but he was still putting on an impressive show, retaliating each of her attacks with one of his own, and she was growing a bit tired of the game.

"You'd save us both a lot of time if you'd just give up now," Hermione shouted, her words purposely provocative.

A bright blue curse flew at her in response, which she redirected easily and safely to the side. His outburst might have been annoying if it hadn't been exactly what she had been hoping for. He was weakening, she could feel it in his spells, could taste it in the air, and the more energy he wasted angrily retaliating, the better.

"Cat got your tongue, Eirick?" she goaded, waving a hand to shove another strong burst of wind in his direction.

The Aescling managed to shield himself against the powerful vortex, and Hermione growled angrily, her frustration bubbling over.

"Can't you just die already," she muttered under her breath.

 _Oh, she's so much more fun like this_ , Halvor mused as she threw up another shield to keep a curse from colliding with her chest.

Even despite their near constant rambling, and in Halvor's case, intentional inciting, having the ancestors there with her was comforting. They filled in the gaps in her knowledge when needed and cheered her on when one of her spells met its target. They whispered spells and pointed out his weaknesses in between her attacks. They even warned her when she missed something, saving her more than once from what likely would have been a very painful and untimely injury. She was powerful, yes, but she also knew that she wouldn't have gotten this far without them.

 _Try svíða_ , Halvor offered suddenly, chuckling quietly to himself. _It's one of my favorites._

 _Do I want to know what that does?_ Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

 _Of course you do_ , Halvor replied, the mischief radiating outward from his form. _But_ _it'll be so much more satisfactory if you just cast it and see what happens._

Hermione resisted the urge to laugh at Halvor's eagerness and conjured the spell silently, cocking her head to the side as the spell burned straight through the Aescling's shield and hit his arm, causing him to cry out in pain. For a moment, she thought that was it, that his shield had managed to dull the effects of the spell, but then his arm burst into flames, and the corner of her mouth bent into a wicked smile.

 _Oh_ , she observed, conjuring the spell again before he could put out the fire. _That was more than satisfactory_ , she said, watching as the Aescling's other arm caught on fire. _Thank you._

Halvor's booming chuckles echoed out in her head as she began another attack, each spell in the series building off the one that came before it. When the first one hit the Aescling, he stumbled backward, his surprise visible even from her position across the field. The second one collided with him almost instantly, and Hermione resisted the urge to cry out in triumph as she saw the blood seeping out of his chest. The third, well that one was particularly nasty, and the snap of a bone – his fucking femur she hoped – rang out in the air.

The Aescling managed to block the fourth spell, which was rather disappointing considering its intended effect, but the fifth, knocked him completely off his feet, his head slamming into the ground so roughly that she could hear the chattering of his teeth above the buzz of magic in her ears. She continued the heavy bombardment, most of the curses hitting her target, until the broken and bloodied man scrambled for cover behind a tree, dragging his left leg awkwardly behind him.

It would almost be too easy.

She lifted her hand, preparing to rip the tree out of the way, eager to end it all.

 _Wait!_ Thyra cried out, her voice staying Hermione's hand. _He's coming – something's not right._

 _He?_ Hermione asked, absentmindedly dropping her hand to her side.

But she didn't need to wait long for an answer. She had blocked out Draco's thoughts since he and Harry had snuck into the house, instead focusing all of her attention on the madmen across the field, but she could suddenly feel the edges of her husband's consciousness barreling across the bridge at the back of her mind, and shiver ran down her spine.

"Fuck," she whispered, throwing up a shield at the same moment he slipped the rest of the way into her mind.

* * *

"What do you mean 'not dead'?" Harry asked, lifting his head, his face white as he looked over at Draco.

 _Get him off that wall,_ Frode instructed harshly. _Quickly! There's no time._

"Draco," Harry repeated, his voice more frantic this time as he took a step toward him. "What do–"

"I can't focus when you're both talking to me," Draco snapped, his hands shaking as he lifted his wand to remove the shackle around Theo's hand. "Just– just fucking help me get him away from the wall."

Harry blinked, his body frozen as his eyes flickered between Theo's mangled body and Draco's pleading glare, before nodding and moving to help.

Draco quickly cast a stasis spell around Theo's body, hoping it was enough to slow the loss of whatever blood remained inside him and to keep his injuries from worsening, and then cast another spell to transform the wooden table on the other side of the room into a small bed. When he was ready, he gave Harry a quick nod and the two men carefully lifted Theo's limp body and carried him to the other side of the room, neither of them quite able to ignore the sickening metallic tang in the air nor the amount of blood that was beginning to seep through their clothes as they moved.

 _We're going to have to borrow some of your wife's magic_ , Frode explained as Draco and Harry gently placed Theo on the bed. _You're not powerful enough to do this on your own._

 _She's a little busy with her magic at the moment_ , Draco replied tersely, kneeling beside the bed and lifting his wand over his friend. _Harry and I will have to be enough._

 _You won't be_ , Frode told him, a hint of sadness in his voice. _The spell would kill you both._

 _What?_ Draco asked frantically. _Are you sure?_

 _Very_ , Frode assured him.

"Fuck," Draco muttered quietly, dropping his wand. Harry looked at him questioningly, but Draco pointed his head, gesturing that he needed a moment.

 _There's really no other way?_ he asked Frode, his worry torn equally between his need to protect his wife and his need to save his oldest friend.

 _My dear boy, do you want him to live or not?_ Frode replied impatiently.

Draco groaned, more terrified to make the impossible decision than he was irritated with having to make it at all. "Fuck!" he shouted, swallowing heavily as his eyes landed again on the bloodied body beneath him. "Fuck. Fuck."

"What is it?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing in concern as Draco hunched over next to the bed, his hands clinging to the edge of the lumpy mattress.

"We need Hermione's magic to heal him," Draco told him, his heartbeat rising sharply as the words left his mouth.

"Why can't we–" But Draco was already shaking his head.

"We're not powerful enough," Draco explained, resisting the urge to turn around and punch the wall. "Frode says it will kill us if we try."

Harry was quiet for a moment, his chest heaving with what Draco could only assume was the same combination of adrenaline and fear that was flooding his own veins.

"Will she still be able to fight if we have to use her magic?" Harry asked quietly, his voice shaking slightly. "Will this put her in more danger than she's already in?"

 _It will drain her but not entirely_ , Frode answered. _She will still be able to fight, but yes, there is a danger in borrowing her power. It will weaken her significantly._

Harry frowned as Draco relayed the message. "Do you need me here for the spell?" Harry asked quickly.

 _No, he doesn't need to be here for it_ , Frode told Draco, answering Harry's question. Because of the bond, y _ou're the only one who can borrow her magic. You will have to be the one to cast the spell._

"No," Draco explained, looking at Harry hopefully as he pushed himself onto his feet. "Just me."

"Then I'll go," Harry replied, not needing Draco to ask what he wanted to ask. He was already clutching his wand tightly, his entire body ready to bolt as soon as necessary. "You take care of Theo, and I'll make sure she's okay."

"Thank you," Draco said, his voice almost a whisper as he locked eyes with Harry. He wished he could do both. He wished he could save Theo without putting Hermione at risk, but...

 _It's settled,_ Frode interjected. _You're just wasting time_ , he repeated urgently. _We need to do this now!_

Draco nodded one final time at Harry, silently communicating his gratitude, before closing his eyes. _Alright_ , he thought knowing Frode could hear him. He was already reaching for the bond at the back of his mind, but paused just outside its entrance. _I'm not doing this without her okay_ , he emphasized resolutely _._ He didn't wait for Frode to answer; instead, he pushed through the barrier quickly, and sighed a small breath of relief when his consciousness flowed seamlessly into his wife's.

 _Draco!_ Hermione called, her shock evident in her thoughts. _Is everything alright?_ _Is Theo–?_

Being with her this way, their fears and desires entangled perfectly together, had become a comfort of sorts since their bond had first appeared, and he was tempted to just toss everything aside and stay for a while, burying himself in her thoughts. But a nudge from somewhere in the back of his skull brought him back to reality, and he swallowed heavily.

They needed to save Theo.

 _He's alive, but_ _he won't be for much longer if I can't heal him_ , Draco told her, choking back a sob as he flashed an image in her mind. He heard her short intake of breath and felt her shiver as she processed what he had shown her, so he waited a moment before continuing. _He needs_ –But he stopped, not sure how to ask her for what he needed, how to tell her that he needed to take from her to keep their friend alive.

 _Theo needs to be healed with your magic_ , Frode, who had followed Draco across the bridge, finished for him. _I do wish we had more time for introductions and explanations, but it's imperative that we do this quickly. He won't survive much longer._

Draco felt the hum of magic as Hermione casted a few spells, momentarily pulling away from their conversation to focus on fending off an attack. The hum was curious, intoxicating almost, and if it weren't for the sudden appearance of another unfamiliar voice, he would have continued to be drawn towards it, entranced by the way it interacted with his wife.

 _How much and how long_? the voice asked as Hermione conjured a powerful electrical charge, the buzz of the current vibrating against the edges of Draco's own consciousness.

 _As much as she can give and hopefully no more five minutes_ , Frode replied quickly, the uncertainty obvious in his voice.

 _She'll be unprotected_ , another voice argued. _We can't–_

 _Done,_ Hermione replied, cutting the voice off. _You can take everything the power has given me. I can take Eirick without it. He's weak, I can feel it. He doesn't have much fight left in him._

 _I really don't relish the idea of stealing your magic away while you're in the middle of a battle_ , Draco noted somewhat angrily. He didn't really have the heart to argue with her, he knew she would do anything to help, but he wasn't going to left it unsaid. _Theo wouldn't either_ , he added more quietly.

 _Draco,_ Hermione began after muttering another spell. _I can do this._

Draco didn't respond right away. He didn't know what to say, what to do. She was so confident, so sure that everything was going to be alright, but he wasn't. And he couldn't lose her.

But he couldn't lose Theo either, and his friend needed them both – Hermione's power and Draco's ability to wield it – to survive.

 _Okay,_ he said finally, _but I'm sending Harry out to help you._

 _No_ , she told him firmly. _I can do this. Tell him to stay with you unless I call for him._

_Hermione–_

_We don't have time for this, my boy_ , Frode inserted. _She's made her choice, and we must move forward._ _The others will help her. They will tell us if she needs help._

Draco was quiet for a moment, trying to decide if the point was worth arguing, if it was worth wasting anymore time. _I love you_ , he said finally as he reluctantly retreated back toward the bridge.

 _And I you_ , Hermione replied. _Now, go save Theo._

Draco hesitated for only the briefest of moments before pulling himself the rest of the way back into his own head. It was only when he came back to himself, the connections of his nervous system snapping back into focus, that he realized his hands were shaking nervously at his sides. He opened his eyes and looked over at Harry, who was still standing at attention, ready to leap out of the room as soon as Draco said the words.

"Stay," Draco told him quietly, his voice cracking. "But if I tell you to go, you fucking go."

Harry looked like he might protest and opened his mouth, his eyes searching Draco's face as if he was looking for an explanation, before shutting it quickly and nodding. They had been friends for long enough that Harry didn't need to ask what the determined look on Draco's face meant.

The risk, at least in this precise moment, didn't matter. Draco was doing what he thought was right.

 _Okay,_ he said, returning his attention to Frode. _Tell me what I need to do._

* * *

 _How long will it take Eirick to notice that I don't have the power?_ Hermione asked once she was sure Draco could no longer hear her.

 _Hard to say_ , Halvor replied. _He's tired, but I doubt the sudden change in your casting will go unnoticed._

 _Well, I suppose there's not much I can do about that_ , she said, inhaling deeply in an attempt to steady her nerves. _And you'll still be able to help me?_

 _Of course, dear_ , Thyra assured her. _We're not going anywhere._

Hermione conjured one last set of sparking globes and sent them careening toward the Aescling in hopes it would keep him distracted long enough for the transfer to take place.

 _I'm ready_ , she said, moving her hand into her pocket to grasp her wand. _You can tell them that I'm ready._

She felt Runa sweep to the bridge and shout something across the bridge. Everything was quiet for a moment, the voices seemingly holding their collective breath in anticipation of what was coming, and then, quite suddenly, she was overcome with a sharp pain, the force of which sucked the air right out of her lungs.

 _Shield!_ Halvor shouted, and Hermione cast a _protego_ a mere second before a bright green light came hurdling toward her.

"Fuck," she breathed, almost collapsing under the force of the collision.

This was going to be harder than she thought.

* * *

 _You will need to focus on her power, whatever you can sense coming through your bond. When it's time, the words you will need to speak are 'taka við.'_ Frode explained quickly once he was sure Draco was ready. _This will initiate the transfer of her power to you._

 _Understood,_ Draco replied, trying to keep his breathing steady and his thoughts calm.

 _I must warn you, the transfer will not be pleasant_ , Frode continued, the worry obvious in his voice. _In fact, it might be best if you_ – But he was cut off by a shout that rang across the bridge into Draco's mind.

It took Draco a moment to pin-point the exact words, but when he did, his body stiffened. _Do it, now!_

 _Now, my boy,_ Frode instructed, not bothering to finish his previous thought. _Quickly!_

"Taka við," Draco repeated without hesitation, his voice quiet but steady as he honed in on the power emanating from the other side of his and Hermione's bond.

For a moment, nothing happened, and as the silence settled around him, he began to wonder if he had done something wrong, if there was some sort of wand movement Frode had forgotten to tell him to do. But then, before he could ask what was happening, he was hit with a shock so powerful that he felt like his lungs might collapse.

 _Steady,_ Frode cautioned, his voice the only calm among the sea of Draco's own frightened thoughts. _Breathe._

Draco's vision narrowed dangerously as he struggled to breathe. He reached out and placed the palm of his hand on the wall in a weak attempt to keep himself upright while his other hand flew to his chest, clutching uselessly at his heart. His lungs were frozen, almost as if the spell had succeeded not only in giving him power but also cutting off his ability to breathe, and he began to panic, barely registering the voice in his head or the hand that had moved to his back.

 _Breathe_ , he tried to tell himself, his eyes blinking furiously. _Fucking breathe._

The word, as simple as it was, seemed to trigger a physical change, and almost immediately, he felt the pressure in his chest lessen. He inhaled sharply, sputtering and cried out involuntarily as oxygen began flowing through his body again.

"Draco?" Harry prompted quietly, his hand still on his friend's back.

"I'm fine," Draco assured him, his voice a rough whisper as he waved him away. "I'm fine," he repeated, this time more for himself.

 _The transfer normally knocks a man out cold_ , Frode told him, his voice calmer than it had been a moment ago. _It seems your wife isn't the only one with a strange predisposition for controlling this kind of power._

Draco didn't reply right away. The room was spinning slightly around him, and he had to fight back the wave of nausea threatening to send him toppling to the ground. He could feel Harry's eyes on him, but he refused to look over at him, instead mulling over the statement Frode had made in hopes that it would be distraction enough.

 _What do you mean?_ Draco asked finally, confused, breathing heavily as he pushed himself off the wall.

 _A story for later,_ Frode replied quickly, realizing his mistake. Curious or not, this wasn't the time or place to dive into the specifics. _Are you alright? Can you focus?_

 _Yes,_ Draco told him, still blinking as he tried to steady his equilibrium. _Yes, I'm fine._

 _The spell you're about to cast may sound simple, but it will drain energy from both you and the power now coursing through your veins_ , Frode explained, talking fast but still slow enough that Draco could follow. _Theo's injuries are extensive, too extensive to heal in one go, so I will have you release the spell once he is stable. You will still need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible._

Draco nodded in understanding. What's _the spell?_ he asked, looking down at the broken body below him for the first time since the transfer.

 _Leita sér lífs_ , Frode told him. _You won't need your wand_ – _just your hands_ , he added, watching through Draco's eyes as he lifted his wand.

Despite knowing that the power had allowed Hermione to perform incredible magic without her wand, and despite being relatively proficient in wandless magic himself, Draco still hesitated, unsure if he would be able to heal the kind of injuries littered across Theo's body without the assistance of a wand. But another look at the body below him was the only encouragement he needed to follow orders, and he sheathed his wand and held out his hands, instinctually hovering them over Theo's body.

 _Like this?_ he asked, nervously.

 _That's perfect_ , Frode confirmed. _Whenever you're ready._

Letting his eyes close, Draco took a deep breath, holding the air in for a moment before releasing it harshly through slightly parted lips.

"Leita sér lífs," he muttered, opening his eyes just in time to see tendrils of bright white light pouring out of his fingers.

* * *

Fighting without the power was entirely different. It was harder, less intuitive, and certainly more dangerous, but Hermione knew she could do it.

And she was.

It had only taken her a moment to recover after having the magic ripped from her body, and only a moment longer for her hands to finally stop shaking enough for her to destroy the tree that the Aescling was hiding behind with a simple _bombarda_. He had retaliated with a series of spells she didn't recognize, but her protection spell had been enough to divert them away.

 _Careful,_ Runa warned her as the last of the sparks flew to the side. _The damage from those curses is terribly difficult to reverse._

Hermione didn't wait to go back on the offensive; she attacked quickly with a curse of her own, the sparks from her wand darting across the field and slamming into the Aescling before he had a chance to react.

 _Don't stop!_ Halvor exclaimed excitedly.

But she didn't need his encouragement. She was already running across the field, curses flying out of her wand almost as quickly as she had managed with the power before it had been taken away.

The only sound she heard as she ran was the pounding of her own heart, its deep and steady thump echoing in her ears. She could see the man crouched near the ground, clutching his heart as blood rain down his face, and she ran faster, hoping to reach him before he recovered.

She raised her wand, the words of a binding charm perched on the edge of her tongue, but she was hit suddenly with a curse that she didn't see coming.

 _Hermione!_ she heard someone scream, but she wasn't sure who. The only thing she could focus on was the pain suddenly radiating down her spine.

A second curse hit her hard, and her body flew backward, tumbling in the air until it collided roughly with the ground. She heard the snap of her neck as it bent back awkwardly before she felt it, but when it finally hit her, she cried out, unable to muzzle the agony in her bones.

Time slowed as she trembled on the ground, her thoughts as scattered and broken as her belief that she could defeat him.

 _Move, Hermione_! Halvor shouted, his words finally making it through the haze in her brain. _You need to move!_

Groaning, she rolled on to her side, her vision blurred by a steady stream of blood falling down her face, and it was then that she realized she didn't have her wand. She froze. Her brain was screaming at her body to get up, but her limbs suddenly refused to do anything but flop awkwardly at her sides.

There was no way she could win now. It was over, and she had lost.

 _Move!_ Halvor pleaded again, terrified. _You can't give up._

 _Call for the other one_ , she heard Thyra say, her voice as scared as Halvor's.

She didn't even have the strength to protest, to tell them that it wouldn't matter, that it was too late. She had been stupid to think she could do this on her own, that killing the Aescling would be an easy task even without her power.

 _At least Theo will survive_ , she thought as a tear escaped down her face. _Draco, I'm so sorry. I love you._

The voices were talking to her, telling her to get up, telling her to fight, but she ignored them. They couldn't help her anymore. She had gambled and lost, and there was nothing they could do.

She heard the Aescling before she saw him, his feet dragging awkwardly against the ground and his breathing loud and heavy, triumphant almost. And finally, she mustered the courage to look up, gritting her teeth against the pain in her spine as she tilted her head. Blood was pouring out of his mouth, but he smiled as he hovered over her, his wand pointed directly at her head.

At least she knew how it would end.

"How fitting," the Aescling said, pausing to lick his lips as he studied her, "you'll die just as powerless as the day you were born."

So, he had figured it out then, and she didn't even bother wondering how.

When she didn't respond, he took another step forward and kicked her, his heavy boot crashing into her ribs with a loud crack, and she crumbled into a ball, coughing up blood as her lungs struggled to move against the force of the blow.

The voices in her head were screaming but the pain muted them, trapping them in the darkest recess of her brain. Another kick and snap of bone locked them further away, and then the only thoughts she could hear were own.

_You failed. You failed them all._

She repeated the words over and over in her head, ignoring her own strangled cries as he kicked her a few more times. When he finally stopped, she was gasping for air, her fingers curling around the grass beneath her as stars danced in her eyes. She hoped that he would end it quickly, that his impatience would at least keep him from dragging it out any further, and she braced herself, no longer caring about the blood she was coughing up or the pain in her spine. She just wanted it to be done.

But then something strange happened – a shock of sorts, and her body jolted back to attention. Her breath returned, and the pain eased. And slowly the voices returned, their words growing louder with each ragged breath she took.

 _Get up, Hermione!_ Halvor was shouting.

 _You can't give up!_ Runa was saying.

 _Hermione, you can do this_ , Thyra was assuring her.

And then suddenly, something in her brain clicked, and her thoughts shifted quickly from defeat to defiance. She couldn't go down like this; she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

 _The power chose you_ , she told herself. _It chose you for a reason._

It was the first time she had repeated the words herself. Dumbledore had said them first, in the letter; the ancestors had said it after, when she had found them in the temple. She had even felt the sentiment in Draco's own thoughts, but she had never, until this very moment, believed they were actually true. And with her belief, came a strength she didn't know she had.

"Destiny," she muttered under her breath, almost laughing as she finally pushed herself off the ground.

She could feel the Aescling's eyes on her, his wand still pointed at her head as she swayed awkwardly on her feet, and then she met his piercing gaze with her own.

"Killing me won't bring back what you've lost," she said, wiping the blood from the side of her mouth.

"Perhaps not," he replied, studying her with dark eyes. "But watching the life drain out of your body will be reward enough."

Hermione shrugged in response, and then, without knowing why, she raised her hands into the air.

The Aescling threw his head back and laughed. "And what are you going to do with those?" he taunted. "Accio your wand? I'm afraid you'll be dead before it even gets to you."

A tingling suddenly extended outward from Hermione's core, quickly settling itself all the way to her fingertips. The feeling was familiar, and she knew, without needing an explanation, that the power had never really left her, not even as Draco was using it to save someone else, not even when she had convinced herself that she couldn't survive. The choice had been made long before she knew it had been, long before anyone had any sense of what she would become, of what she would one day have to face, and there was no going back. The power wasn't going to simply stand by and let her die.

Emboldened, she turned her palms upward, her eyes fixed on the Aescling as clouds began to swirl above them. She could feel the electricity in the air, and her fingers twitched in anticipation.

"It's not… possible," he muttered, dropping his wand to his side as looked upward. "How?" he asked, his voice quiet as he turned back to face her.

"Does it matter?" she said.

And then two bolts of lightning descended from the sky.

Hermione didn't hesitate, she didn't jump in surprise; instead, she caught the strings of light in the palms of her hand and smiled. The Aescling shrank back, his entire body trembling with fear as sparks shot outwards, heating the surrounding air and igniting a circle of grass around them, trapping them both inside.

"No," she heard him say, the light reflecting off his dark eyes as he stared at her in disbelief.

But her eyes weren't focused on the current now running from the sky to her hands, nor were they focused on the fire surrounding them; they were focused on the man in front of her, boring into his very soul. He was a shell of what he had been moments ago, the color drained from his face, his shoulders hunched in defeat, and she knew that she had him.

"It's over Eirick," Hermione said, her body shaking slightly from the exertion of controlling the lightning as she spoke.

"Please," he begged, but his words didn't matter. He wasn't worth saving.

With an ear-piercing scream, the electricity exploded outward from Hermione's hands, and the current charged into the Aescling, lifting his body off the ground, his limbs extended outward and his head thrown back in pain. His own scream mixed with her own, and she fell to her knees, watching as his body shook violently, until every inch of him erupted in flames. She watched as the screaming stopped, until his body stilled and fell roughly to the ground, charred and unmoving. She watched as the lightning retreated back into the sky, sucking the heat and static out of the air. With a mix of horror and relief, she watched until the body in front of her crumbled apart on the ground.

And then she cried.

It was over. It was finally fucking over.

The voices were cheering in her head, but she couldn't make out the words; she couldn't focus on anything but the relief flooding her veins.

It was done.

She was still crying, her eyes closed and her body folded over her knees where she had crumbled to the ground, when a strong pair of arms wrapped around her and lifted her onto her feet.

"Hermione," a familiar voice said. And then she was being pulled into something warm, something familiar and safe.

"Draco," she whispered, not needing to open her eyes to confirm who it was.

"It's alright," he said, pulling her closer, his breath tickling the top of her head.

"He's gone," she mumbled, burying her head against his chest. "He's finally gone."

And then she collapsed into his arms, her body shaking as her sobs grew louder.

"Shhh," Draco said, moving one hand to her back, his fingers moving in small circles, while he buried his other hand in her tangled curls. "It's okay," he assured her, his lips brushing against her forehead. "I'm here."

His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she gasped, struggling to control the torrent of emotions swirling in her head.

Draco held her as she cried, whispering softly in her ear as she came down slowly from the cliff she had been dangling from.

"Theo?" she asked when she had calmed enough to speak, lifting her head to look at her husband with swollen eyes.

"He's alive. Harry's with him," he replied, smiling at her weakly as he brushed away her tears with the pad of his thumb. "I don't know how, but he fucking survived."

Even though she had just managed to calm herself down, Hermione couldn't stop the tears from coming back, and she choked out a garbled laugh as she exhaled in relief. It had all been worth it. Theo had survived. They all had.

"Alive," she whispered.

"Yes," Draco assured her. "Which reminds me," he continued, before she had a chance to say anything else. "I have something of yours."

"We don't have to do that now," she replied, wiping the new tears from the side of her face. "It can wait."

"Honestly, it's a bit unnerving," Draco told her, tucking a rogue curl behind her ear. "The power doesn't belong to me," he added as he brushed a finger across her bottom lip. "And it's itching to return to you."

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. "Okay," she said softly, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready," she added after a moment.

"Létta," she heard Draco say.

She felt him tighten his hold on her as their bodies shuddered in mutual discomfort, refusing to let go even despite the pain she knew he was suffering through, and she smiled through the shock of the transfer.

When it was over, when the shaking in her body had stopped, she opened her eyes to look at him and immediately lost herself in his gaze, unable to look away.

"Oh," she said, speaking first as she brought a hand to the side of Draco's face, her fingers moving softly against his pale skin.

"Oh, indeed," he said, smiling at her before leaning forward and crashing his lips against her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay - I got super sick last weekend, and my brain took forever to recover, so this took way longer than it should have. Anyways, I do hope this chapter was as fulfilling for everyone to read as it was to write!
> 
> The next chapter will be the last (cries under my big puffy blanket), but there will also likely be a separate epilogue, although it won't be super lengthy if I do go that route. A huge thank you to everyone who has followed this story over the past few months - it really has been a pleasure writing this for all of you!
> 
> Oh, and for those that are interested, I'll also be posting a short excerpt from the next story that I've been working on. I likely won't start posting again until the new year, but keep your eyes peeled in case I decide to surprise you all (and myself) by posting earlier.
> 
> Translations:  
> svíða (Old Norse) - burn, singe, cause pain  
> taka við (Old Norse) - accept, take in  
> leita sér lífs (Old Norse) - seek to save one's life  
> létta (Old Norse) - stop


	30. No Ordinary Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs - The Subterranean Heart by Mount Alaska, Love We Found by Bob Moses, and No Ordinary by Labrinth

Theo had never put much thought into how he would die. But at the height of the war, when it hadn't been clear who would win or how, he had clung desperately to the hope that his death would be quick and painless, that someone, and he really hadn't cared who or what side they belonged to, would take pity on him so that he didn't have to pick up the bloody pieces his father was scattering across the countryside. 

When the light had prevailed, he realized it would be futile to continue hoping for an easy way out. The good guys didn't play that way. They didn't hold a son responsible for the sins of a father – at least not in the way that was particularly useful for him – and so he had simply done his best to deal with his new reality, going back to how it had been before, living life, if you could call it that, with little regard for how it would end.

He figured it was better to be surprised anyways.

And when the day finally came, he certainly hadn't been disappointed.

His death had by no means been an accident; it hadn't even, depending on the time frame one viewed it from, been wholly unexpected either. It hadn't been fast or particularly peaceful, but as it turns out, the funny thing about being tortured by a madman is that the end result is an incredibly predictable one. And yet, despite all of the evidence to the contrary, his death had still been quite the surprise. It's just that the surprise wasn't so much in the specifics of how it had happened; it was in the why.

In a traditional, sacred twenty-eight kind of way, Theo always had a family, but in reality, he spent most of his life alone. His mother died shortly after his birth, driven mad by his father, or so it was rumored, whose capacity for hatred and depravity was surpassed only by his aversion to love and kindness. Of course, his father, as insane as he was, blamed him, an infant without a name, and if one of his father's house elves hadn't intervened, there might not have been a Theo at all. Not that he thought his life was preferable to whatever waited for him beyond the veil because, if he was being totally honest, there was precious little to look forward to when he was young.

It was a terrifying upbringing, and Theo learned quickly that he couldn't rely on anyone but himself. Most days, he tried to avoid his father lest he end up on the receiving end of one of dear-old-dad's alcohol fueled rages, but more often than not, his avoidance just made the beatings worse. There was no father/son bonding, no real relationship of any kind, and there certainly wasn't an inkling of anything other than mutual hate. If Theo needed anything, if he was hungry or if he was sick, he had to do it himself, had to take care of himself, because no one was going to do it for him. And he did it all while living with a man whose fuse was so temperamental that he was ever sure when it would blow. It wasn't a particularly happy environment for a child to thrive in, and by anyone's standards, he was forced to grow up far too quickly, but he didn't know any better. He had no idea that it shouldn't have been like that, no one to tell him that life could be and should be better than it was.

But then he met Draco, and the fucker had been so happy and perfect, so obviously spoiled and loved by his parents, and it had made Theo angry beyond words. He had wanted to punch the blond in his stupid little face simply to show him that life wasn't all sunshine and roses, but when they finally had been left alone outside, Theo found that he couldn't do it.

" _You're Theodore," Draco had announced with an air of authority, smiling as if they were already the best of friends._

" _Yes," Theo mumbled in reply, awkwardly brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "You can call me Theo, though."_

" _Theo," Draco repeated. "I'm Draco," he added, extending his hand._

_It seemed a rather adult thing to do, and Theo stared at Draco's outstretched hand for a moment, slightly confused, before returning the gesture._

" _Father says you don't have any siblings," Draco continued, his eyes flickering away only for the briefest of moments before returning to look at Theo with an obvious sadness, "and that your mother died a long time ago."_

_Theo simply nodded in response, not entirely sure what to say._

" _I don't have any siblings either," Draco revealed, his smile fading somewhat. "We could be brothers… you know, for pretend…. if you want." The authority in his voice was gone, replaced instead with nervousness and vulnerability, and Theo wasn't sure what to do with that._

" _It's okay if you don't want to," Draco said quietly when Theo didn't respond, clearly a bit bothered by his silence._

_But Theo did want to. He was just a little dumbstruck. He had always wanted a brother; hell, he would have taken a friend of any kind. He only hesitated because this was all so unexpected. They had never met before; he didn't even know anything about the blond standing in front of him other than the fact that their parents knew each other from 'work'. How could Draco be so sure they'd get along?_

" _I'd like that," Theo replied finally, and Draco had smiled._

_And that had been the start of that._

Theo had always wondered if Lucius and Narcissa had put Draco up to it – his father's abuse was certainly no secret – but in the end, it didn't really matter. Theo and Draco became practically inseparable, and by the time they got to Hogwarts, Draco was, for all intents and purposes, the only real family Theo ever had.

Unfortunately, family had a nasty habit of letting him down, and so when Draco had disappeared after the war, leaving him to pick up the pieces on his own, Theo had simply pretended as if nothing was wrong, as if he wasn't actually hurt by the sudden and monumental loss. He had survived without Draco before, and he would do it again. He certainly didn't blame Draco – how could he? Draco had simply done the thing that most of their friends had talked about at the beginning of the war but none of the rest of them had the actual courage to do when it was finally over. Draco had left so he could live, and Theo could at least, whether he liked being left behind or not, understand that need to run from the things that shackled him to the past.

When Draco resurfaced, Theo thought things would finally return to normal, that the two of them would resume their friendship as if no time had passed at all, but Draco never reached out, and neither did Theo, and so they remained as separated as they had been immediately after the war. It would be a lie to say that he wasn't hurt – and he was, very much so, hurt that Draco hadn't even bothered to send him an owl – so he had done the only thing he could think of to deal; he buried the pain and tried to move on. But Draco was everywhere. The hate that the papers spewed about the former Death Eater quickly turned to love, and before Theo could recover from the whiplash, Draco was making a name for himself as the Ministry's newest golden boy, and Theo was relegated to the sidelines just like everyone else.

It seemed, much to Theo's dismay, that they were destined to live the rest of their lives as strangers.

But then, rather unexpectedly, after nearly a decade of separation, Draco had come barreling back into Theo's life, dragging Gryffindor's princess and all of their problems with him. And yes, maybe he should have made Draco work a little harder to earn his forgiveness, but the truth was, Theo couldn't even pretend that he hadn't been excited the moment he saw Draco standing uncomfortably in the middle of Malfoy Manor the night of the banquet. He finally had the opportunity to get his friend back, and hurt or not at what had or had not happened since the end of the war, he had jumped at the chance, forgiving Draco for everything before he had even finished emerging from the crowd to say hello.

You see, love made people do funny things. And Theo loved Draco like the brother he never had.

So when shit really hit the fan, and Theo was sure he'd lost Draco yet again, he decided to make an effort to get to know the other people Draco loved. Narcissa had been easy; she had always cared for Theo, especially when he was younger and things were bad for him at home, and so resuming where they had left off had been natural. Hermione had been a little harder to crack, but when he finally managed to penetrate the walls she had thrown up to protect herself, he found that he cared for her as much as, and possibly more than he ever cared for Draco. Harry was another thing entirely, and even in death, Theo still wasn't sure what familial analogy to use for him, crazy cousin perhaps, but he too quickly became an important part of Theo's life, another piece of the puzzle. Even Lucius, who was arguably the most bloody difficult wizard in all of Britain, came to occupy a special place in his heart.

Whether Theo realized it at the time or not, he was building something important from the only loving relationship that he'd ever had.

And then Hermione had told him that she was pregnant, and in that moment, he knew he would do anything to protect her, to protect them all. He had finally found the family that he had so desperately needed as a child, and he wasn't going to let anything happen to any of them.

It turns out that family, even a chosen one like Theo's, was a perfectly commendable thing to die for. And he happily gave them everything he had.

His life.

Which in retrospect, seemed like such a strange thing to have ever worried about.

In life, death always felt so morbid, but in death, death just felt like the logical next step, a natural progression from one state to another. And for Theo, it was the perfect opportunity to learn something new about himself.

He had always joked that he wasn't built to be a hero, that he wasn't born to save the world or any of the people in it, and yet his death had meant something, had purpose beyond himself. He hadn't died hiding away from the world like he thought he would. He hadn't died angry at it for treating him so unkindly for so long. He had died trying to protect the people – yes, plural – that he loved. His death, rather ironically for someone as averse to the hero thing as he was, had been for a greater good.

Or at least he hoped. Wherever he was now, he couldn't tell if they had won or not.

The afterlife was yet another thing Theo had never given much thought. He had always been intrigued by the idea of Heaven and Hell, but the dichotomy always felt false, completely impractical for a world of people filled with complicated emotions and beliefs. And he, like so many others, was a perfect example of someone who didn't fit neatly into one of the two boxes: too cowardly and morose to be welcomed into the golden gates above but not quite wicked enough to be subjected to an eternity of suffering behind the fiery gates below. He was someone who had spent most of his life living right on the edge of indifference, and he had come to believe that when it was finally over, his reward would be that he'd simply just stop being.

And yet, here he was… still thinking, still mulling over every minute detail of his life.

 _Strange_.

He almost felt…

"Theo?"

Wherever he was, it was dark, but he knew he wasn't imagining things. Someone, or something, had definitely just called his name. Perhaps he'd made it past one of the gates after all. Of the two, Hell seemed the most likely.

"Theo, can you hear me?"

There it was again – his name. And was that concern? He didn't think demons were capable of such an emotion. Come to think of it, he didn't feel particularly warm either. Weren't there supposed to be flames and shit?

Eager to solve the mystery, he moved his eyes, searching for anything that would tell him where he was, and realized that it wasn't actually dark, his eyes were just closed. Slowly, he pried them open, fighting against the invisible weight that seemed to have locked them shut in the first place. And when he finally managed to peak through his lashes, he was attacked by a blinding, white light.

"What the fuck?" he said, his voice rough.

This had to be some kind of sick joke. There was no way he had finagled his way into Heaven. Someone had obviously made a grave, horrible mistake.

Theo turned his head, blinking as he tried to shy away from the light above him, and caught sight of a figure sitting next to him whose skin was fucking glowing. _Glowing._

"Oh, bollocks," he mumbled.

There was a fucking angel next to him. Someone was definitely going to lose their wings for this.

"I think you've made a mistake," he croaked quietly, his throat too dry to manage anything louder. "I definitely don't belong here."

"Rather we left you for dead, do you?" came the reply, followed by a familiar chuckle.

 _Oh, fuck._ He knew that voice.

"Draco?" Theo said, his eyes locked on what he assumed was a hand.

"Yes, you fucking tosser," the voice replied, and the hand moved. "My eyes are up here by the way."

Theo blinked again, trying to focus as another chuckle violated his eardrums. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, confused as to what was so funny. "You were supposed to survive."

"Oh, wonderful," the voice mused. "As if you weren't insufferable enough before. Now we're all going to have to put up with whatever delusion this is."

"Aren't we–?" But Theo stopped.

The area around him suddenly came into sharp focus, and he realized, rather embarrassingly, that he wasn't in Heaven at all. The bright light above him wasn't the light people ran towards after their demise; it was simply a collection of horrendously harsh ceiling lights. The person next to him wasn't actually glowing; he was just pale as fuck. In fact, Theo was pretty damn sure, despite being convinced of the opposite a moment ago, that he wasn't even remotely dead.

The clues were certainly there, he had just been a little too preoccupied contemplating the meaning of life and death – _his life and his death_ – to notice them. He was breathing, although rather annoyingly, each breath was accompanied by an excruciating amount of pain. He could feel the heavy thuds of what he assumed to be a fully functioning heart below his chest, one he hoped wouldn't give out on him the moment he sat up. His mouth was dry, but he could taste something that reminded him of blood, or more accurately, something that was most definitely blood, and he swallowed heavily, suddenly remembering the thing that he'd much rather forget.

Theo glanced up at the man next to him, something snippy about living on the edge perched on the edge of his tongue but thought better of it when he took note of the man's appearance. Draco, and Theo had indeed confirmed it was in fact him, looked, for lack of a better word, drained, almost as if he hadn't slept or eaten for days – and knowing Draco's knack for punishing himself when things went wrong, he probably hadn't. There were dark circles under his eyes, and although he was smiling, Theo could see an obvious pain behind his eyes. His shoulders were hunched, not so much in defeat but definitely in some sort of resignation, and his hands were digging into the top of his knees.

"You look fucking horrible," Theo noted finally, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Thank you," Draco replied, his eyes glazing over slightly despite offering Theo a small smile. "Welcome back to reality, by the way. Almost thought you had gone totally bonkers."

"Bonkers suits me," Theo replied before attempting to push himself into a sitting position, groaning as he felt bone grinding against bone (which he was pretty sure was not a terribly wonderful sign).

Draco rushed to Theo's side, placing a hand on his shoulders to help steady his movement, and Theo, despite hating when people did things for him, simply let Draco help.

"Easy," Draco said softly, quickly moving a few pillows behind Theo's back to help stabilize him.

Theo tried not to wince, but the pain seemed to have magnified now that he was fully awake, and he couldn't help but grimace as he settled back against the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed.

"I suppose I have you to thank for this," Theo said after a moment, smiling weakly.

"What, you mean being alive?" Draco replied, raising an eyebrow as he sat back into the chair next to the bed.

"No, I mean being stuck in whatever looney bin this is," Theo told him sarcastically. "Of course, I mean me being alive. I thought I made it perfectly clear that I didn't want anyone risking their life to save me if it came to that."

Draco looked down for a moment, and Theo caught a slight tremble in his friend's hands before speaking again. "Theo," Draco choked out finally, his voice almost a whisper. "I couldn't just– I couldn't fucking just let you to die."

Theo watched as Draco bit down on his lip. "Please tell me no one got hurt."

Draco didn't reply right away, and Theo could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully. "We're all fine," Draco promised him.

"But?" Theo prompted, have caught the nervousness in Draco's voice.

"It's a bit complicated," Draco replied, unable to look his friend directly in the eyes.

"Well, un-complicate it," Theo demanded a bit more harshly than he intended.

Draco exhaled deeply, letting out his breath slowly before fixing his gaze on Theo, his eyes swirling with something Theo couldn't place.

"While we were fighting the Aescling at the Manor, Hermione went into labor," he began, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. "When we were forced to leave you behind, I lost control of myself and my emotions leaked through our bond," he paused, swallowing heavily. "She collapsed – she thought something had happened to me, and after being forced to leave us at the Manor, not knowing when she'd see me again, the shock of it was too much for her. She started hemorrhaging," Draco paused again, seemingly struggling with something, and Theo, despite the stinging in his eyes, tried to keep his face as impassive as possible. "She almost died," he managed after a moment, looking down as his hands, "but my aunt, Andromeda, managed to stop the bleeding, and well… when Hermione woke up she had inherited some sort of–"

"Fucking hell, Draco," Theo said frantically, interrupting before Draco could finish. "You can't just tell me Hermione went into labor, almost died, and not tell me if the baby survived or not."

Draco looked up again, his eyes a little red. "He survived," he confirmed, forcing out a smile as Theo shot him an 'I told you it was a boy' glance. "It wasn't exactly the most peaceful birth, but he's certainly a fighter. We named him Scorpius–"

"Of course you went with Scorpius," Theo lamented, cutting Draco off again. "Do you always have to be so damn predictable?"

Draco brought a hand to his temple, shaking his head as he buried his fingertips in his platinum hair. "If you would have just let me finish," he began, chuckling softly. "His full name is Scorpius Theodore Malfoy, you ungrateful arse."

For what was probably the first time in his life, Theo opened his mouth but nothing came out. He was speechless – actually fucking speechless – and wasn't even sure what to say.

"We thought we had lost you," Draco explained, filling the silence. "Hermione and I both wanted to honor the sacrifice you made for our family." He stopped, watching with amusement as Theo finally shut his mouth. "You're welcome, by the way."

"You're welcome?" Theo repeated, finally coming back to himself. "You're welcome for what? Debasing my name by sandwiching it between Scorpius and Malfoy?!"

"Hermione said you say that," Draco told him, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back his laughter.

And even despite the pain, Theo couldn't keep a straight face any longer. He threw his head back and laughed, not even bothering to wipe the tears falling from the corner of his eyes.

"I hate you," Theo managed in between breaths.

"No you don't," Draco retorted. "You couldn't possibly hate the father of your godchild."

Theo nearly choked when the words left Draco's mouth. The name was one thing, but being told he had beat out Harry fucking Potter as godfather… well, he really ought to try out the hero thing a bit more often.

"And how did Saint Potter take the news?" Theo asked inquisitively. "Please tell me there were tears."

"Oh, it was actually his idea," Draco said, waving a hand in the air. "Although, he made me swear on my crown jewels that he gets to be godfather to the rest of my spawn."

"I knew he'd play dirty if he got the chance," Theo murmured. "But fine, I'll still put him to godfather shame. Scorpius won't know what's hit him."

Draco laughed again, and Theo couldn't help but notice that his friend finally looked a little calmer.

"Alright, so Hermione almost died giving birth to your son, whom you smartly named after your favorite person in the whole wide world," Theo said, impatient, despite enjoying the conversation, to understand what had happened. "Is that the whole story or is there something else you're not telling me?"

The seriousness quickly returned to Draco's face, and for a moment Theo wished they could just go back to the laughing. "No, there's quite a bit more," Draco began again. "Scorpius' birth wasn't just dramatic because of the timing or trauma – it was also accompanied by something a bit unexpected. In the middle of the whole ordeal, Hermione was gifted with a power," Draco paused, searching for understanding in Theo's face. "A Norse power."

 _Of fucking course she was_ , Theo thought. He had known as soon as their bond had exploded they way that it had that something deeper was going on, they all had, but as wild as his own imagination was, he hadn't really expected to be told that Hermione was now some powerful Norse mage.

Although, in retrospect, it made a hell of a lot of sense.

"I leave you two alone for two minutes…" Theo said, shaking his head. "So, she really is descended from some ancient Norse mage then?"

"Not exactly," Draco replied, shifting nervously in his seat. "The power is passed from parent to child when the child becomes a parent, but the Aescling spent his entire life refusing to hand over his power. The lineage latched on to Hermione after he murdered one of his children in the same muggle hospital she was born in. Fortunately for all of us, he lost his power when Scorpius was born even despite there being no real blood relation."

"Well, we always knew he wasn't the most pleasant of individuals," Theo offered. "But why her?"

"I think that's something I'll let her try to explain," Draco told him, smiling weakly. "Dumbledore knew," he added quietly. "He knew and he never told her."

"Merlin," Theo breathed. "You could fill Hogwarts with the number of secrets that man collected and hid from the world over his lifetime."

"Definitely won't argue with that," Draco replied, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"So, you have a son and Hermione is now some sort of Viking warrior, is that all?" Theo asked, knowing it wasn't.

Draco shook his head. "Once Hermione recovered, she left to find the Aescling on her own. Along the way, she ended up making contact with some of the ancestors, and they led her to where he was hiding," he said, wiping the palms of his hands on his jeans. "One of those ancestors – a talkative little fucker who reminds me entirely too much of you, by the way – managed to make his way into my head and directed me to the same place. I took Harry, and we found you chained up in the basement. It was–" He cringed. "Well, I suppose you have some idea what kind of state you were in, so forgive me if I don't elaborate."

Theo nodded, trying to ignore the bile rising in his throat.

"I had to borrow some of Hermione's magic to save you," Draco continued, pausing to take another deep breath. "She was in the middle of fighting the Aescling, and he…" He stopped, closing his eyes for a moment as if to steady himself. "He almost managed to kill her while I was trying to heal you."

Theo shook his head in disbelief. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "You did the one thing I explicitly told you not to do."

"She insisted she had it under control," Draco told him sadly, dropping his gaze to his lap, "but you're not wrong to be angry with me. I'm angry with me. It was much too close a call."

Theo could see the tension in Draco's body and decided, at least for the moment, that Draco didn't need someone else to add to the pile of guilt he was clearly already struggling with.

"So, he's dead then?" Theo asked, knowing Draco probably wouldn't be here if he wasn't.

Draco lifted his eyes and nodded. "She killed him," he said. "She didn't even have her power, and she fucking killed him."

Theo sank further back into the pillows and let out a sigh of relief as he threw his head back against the wall behind him. "Thank fuck for that."

"Yes," Draco agreed.

It was then, when Theo tried to lift his arm to brush the strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes, that he noticed his right arm was wrapped in a large bandage. He stared at it curiously for a moment, recognizing almost immediately that something was a little off, and swallowed heavily as he moved his left hand over the arm. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he couldn't quite place, but when his left hand reached the spot where his right hand should be, and he found nothing, it all came rushing back.

Draco cleared his throat nervously.

"Alright," Theo began, rolling his eyes dramatically as he used his left arm to lift his right into the air, "who the fuck misplaced my hand?"

The door to the room swung open, and Theo froze, the nub at the end of his arm extended outward in front of him.

"Uhhh," Dean said, looking awkwardly between Theo (and his outstretched nub) and an extremely pale Draco. "Bad time?"

* * *

Hermione watched, smiling with amusement as Draco carried Scorpius to the edge of the lake, talking and pointing to things as if their son could understand any of it. Scorpius, bless his little heart, simply gawked at his father, his mouth puckered into one of the many signature Malfoy scowls before his eyes fluttered shut. It took Draco a few moments to realize that he had managed to bore their son to sleep, but when he did, he moved the hand he had been gesturing wildly with to Scorpius' back and bent to kiss the top of his head.

And Hermione couldn't help but laugh at how fucking perfect and beautiful the scene in front of her was.

It didn't matter that there had been a multitude of moments like this since they had returned to the Manor; a warmth still radiated across her body every single time. There was no more running, no more hiding. They were finally safe. She could finally breathe.

Draco turned and waved, a few strands of platinum hair falling over his forehead in the breeze, and Hermione's chest tightened as they locked eyes, the cool steel of his own catching and reeling her in so tightly that she couldn't have looked away even if she wanted to. His gaze was still as piercing and unnerving as it had been when she had woken up hungover in his bed, but she had grown fond of the feeling of losing herself in it, especially now when his infatuation with her was so clear and visible beneath the storm. He loved her deeply, and she loved him so fucking much that it hurt, not caring in the slightest how cliche it sounded.

She continued to watch even after he looked away, returning his attention to the baby that was stirring slightly in his arms. Draco bounced slightly up and down, pausing every once in a while to whisper something in Scorpius' ear, and Hermione's heart melted even further than it already had. This – being here at this very moment to witness something that was both so normal and extraordinarily special – meant more than she'd ever be able to articulate. Draco was alive. Scorpius was alive. And she was still here for all of it.

She couldn't stop staring.

Sometimes, she was afraid if she looked away, that Draco would disappear forever, that their son, whom both of them already loved more than anything in the world, would cease to exist. And this time, it hit her like a freight train, nearly knocking the breath out of her. She tried to smile through the shock, resisting the urge to cling helplessly to her chest, but the bond made it easy for Draco to sense that something was wrong, and before she could tell him she was fine, that she just needed a second, he had turned around, rubbing Scorpius' back as he strode quickly toward her across the lawn.

"It appears that I'm turning into my father," Draco said as he placed Scorpius in his bouncer and plopped down next to Hermione, whose panic immediately eased.

She chuckled softly and waved her hand to start the vibration on the small chair, watching as their son's eyes blinked open for a fraction of a second before closing in exhausted contentment.

"And you're just now figuring that out?" she quipped, raising an eyebrow in jest.

A low groan emanated from Draco's throat, as if he couldn't believe she had just said that, but when the sound stopped, he simply shifted his body so that he could look at her more directly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, studying her with such an intensity that she thought he might pass out from the effort.

Hermione, having just realized she was chewing anxiously at her lower lip, released it quickly. "Just the usual worrying," she offered, cringing inwardly at her half-arsed lie. "Nothing you need to be concerned about," she tried to assure him.

But she could sense that, one, Draco definitely didn't believe there was anything _usual_ about her worrying, and two, he most definitely was concerned about it.

"I know Thyra and the others will be there to help me learn to control this," she began before he could tell her all the ways her worrying wouldn't help. "But I– I'm still scared that I'm going to hurt you, that something will happen, and I'll lose both of you."

"I'm not going anywhere," Draco promised her, letting out a breath as he buried a hand in her curls. "And neither is Scorp."

"How can you possibly know that?" Hermione mumbled in reply, her eyes flickering over to their son.

Draco pulled her closer. "Trust me, I know," he said quietly.

Instead of answering, she tilted her head and rested it on his shoulder, her mind still racing.

The ancestors had, temporarily, vacated their minds, giving them the space that they needed to process what had just happened without the addition of four other opinions, and Hermione was thankful for it. Before leaving, Thyra had created a door of sorts next to the bridge in the back of Hermione's mind, one that Thyra assured her, when opened, would signal for them to return. It was a relief to know they were close if she needed them, but she also knew she needed to work through her new fears before she let them back in.

Her fears weren't so little though, and they wouldn't be easy to overcome.

"You know, the bond makes it impossible for you to hide things from me," Draco said as he rubbed slow circles on her back. "But it is still impressive that you try."

Hermione sighed. He wasn't wrong.

The reading of each other's thoughts was a hard thing to get used to, but neither of them were keen on blocking each other out anymore. She certainly didn't take offense to the fact that he had front row seats to her internal monologue, even when, like now, she was trying to keep him from worrying about all of her worrying; it wasn't the first time it had happened, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"What are we going to tell Kingsley?" she asked, finally articulating the bits she knew he could help her with.

"You don't have to make any decisions about that now," Draco replied, pausing to brush the hair away from his eyes. "It's probably best we tell Kingsley everything eventually, but once he knows the truth, I doubt he'll disagree about keeping it a secret. My guess is he'll do everything in his power to help."

Hermione knew Draco was right, she knew Kingsley hadn't lived through two wars to risk starting another by flaunting her around as some kind of weapon, but it was still difficult not to agonize over it. Especially considering they hadn't seen fit to tell him anything yet.

After racing Theo to St. Mungo's, Draco and Harry had briefed Kingsley, who was equal parts distraught and engaged, and they somehow managed to gloss over the specifics of Hermione's triumph all while assuring him that, no, nothing nefarious was going on, and no, there was nothing they weren't telling him that they needed to tell him. Kingsley had been furious about being kept in the dark without so much as a simple confirmation that they were alive and safe, and Hermione really couldn't blame him; they had cut off all communication after battering down the hatches at the cliffside cottage, ignoring every regulation that had been put into place for precisely this kind of situation. Draco and Harry had taken the brunt of it, keeping Hermione away from the Minister until absolutely necessary, and even then, they had shielded her from some of the more difficult questions. She felt guilty lying, even if it was more a lie of omission than anything else, but for now, in the immediate aftermath, she was happy that the Minister's questions had been brief and few.

Her own questions had been maddening enough.

"I guess we'll find out," Hermione said finally, wrapping her arms around her folded knees. "It's so peaceful out here," she noted after a moment, turning slightly to face her husband again.

Draco nodded. "It is," he agreed, smiling softly.

She wanted the peace to last forever, but she knew it couldn't, at least not in the way she wanted to. There was no fighting the protective itch in the back of her brain, no getting rid of the kind of worry that always seemed to settle in after something terrible happened, especially now when the aftermath involved so many others that she deeply cared about. Sooner or later, she'd have to face the music.

Her power, the ancestors, the truth about the Aescling and the people who made him – she was basically a living, breathing elder wand, and deciding what to do with that information was slowly chipping away at her resolve.

She felt unsettled, a bit too uneasy and nervous for someone who had just won a hard-fought battle. And oddly enough, it was the same way she had felt the way after the Battle of Hogwarts. Even in the midst of all the destruction, there had been so much to look forward to, so much to be thankful for, and yet there had also been a terrible amount of sadness and grief. So much needed to be rebuilt, both physically and mentally, and so many, herself included, had failed to meet the hopeful expectations in the years that followed. And right now, she was scared that she wouldn't live up to the expectations following this fight, even if she was the only one setting them.

Mostly, she was worried about the future.

She worried about Scorpius, about what the transfer of power would one day mean for him. She worried about what it would take to keep such an important secret from the rest of the world, because if history had taught her anything it was that the possibility of all-encompassing power was a dangerous draw, a beacon for people with harmful intent. She worried about, if people found out the truth, what it would mean for any of them, especially Draco who would feel personally responsible for protecting her and their child.

There was no handbook for this, no easy answers, and that was almost more terrifying than living with a power she didn't yet fully understand.

On the one hand, she knew telling the truth would mean that she wouldn't have to hide, that maybe she could use her power for good without needing to worry about the repercussions. But on the other, she didn't want to be used as a weapon, nor did she want that for her son, and not even Kingsley could protect them from the consequences if the world found out about her power and decided it needed to be controlled. Either way, it would be a tenuous way to live, to raise a family, and she was worried… about fucking everything.

But it wasn't just the worrying that was getting to her; the struggle to live with what happened, that people had been hurt to protect her, seemed to amplify her emotions. The first day after everything had been the hardest. Being back at the Manor, seeing this destruction before Lucius had worked some impressive magic to initiate the repairs – it had all almost been too much for her. But Draco had been next to her the entire time, refusing, like he had done for her in the middle of the lightning-scarred field, to let her wallow in doubt. She had done what needed to be done, and he wouldn't let her believe that any of it had been her fault.

"Hermione, look at me," Draco said, his breathing a bid ragged and his voice rough.

She obliged, turning her head slightly.

"This worrying is going to eat you alive," he said, brushing his thumb across her cheek. "I promise, we will figure it out together," he paused, moving his finger to her bottom lip. "All of this."

"But Scorpius–"

"Will be fine," Draco assured her. "He's not exactly poised to become a father anytime soon, and there's no reason, even if people find out about you, that they need to know about him." He stopped, smiling as he opened her mouth and closed it. "Plus, it's not like you'll be navigating all of this in the dark. The ancestors haven't abandoned you, and they won't."

Hermione opened her mouth again, beginning to mumble something incoherently in protest, but Draco leaned forward and shut her up with a kiss instead.

"Not fair," she mumbled, pulling away to rest her forehead against his.

Draco laughed. "If I ever had to choose between having a power like yours and being able to do this–" he kissed her again, this time moving his tongue eagerly against her lower lip, "I'd pick this every time."

"Don't believe you," she muttered, her eyes heavy with lust as she licked her lips.

"Well then, I guess I'll have to be a bit more convincing," he replied, pulling her into his lap with an impressive feat of strength.

She felt a hand slip down the small of her back, sliding dangerously close to the edge of her jeans, and she moaned quietly, licking her lips as she looked at him.

"Ohhh," she gasped when Draco's mouth found its way to the spot behind her ear.

She felt him pull away and chuckle against her neck.

"Believe me yet?" he asked.

"I believe you," she replied breathily before throwing her lips against his.

And she wasn't just talking about the kiss.

* * *

It was complete chaos. But it was the soothing kind – the kind that assured everyone that things were okay.

James and Albus were chasing each other around the ornately decorated dining room in Malfoy Manor, their high-pitched squeals echoing off the walls while Ginny chased after them, apologizing profusely to Narcissa for their behavior (and again each time they managed to knock something off the walls). Lily, who was undeniably her mother's daughter, was throwing a tantrum after Harry had snatched a particularly fragile looking plate out of her hands, one which Lucius handed right back to her as soon as Harry's back was turned. And then there was Scorpius, who was just watching it all happen with wide eyes, every once in a while, looking at Draco with a pinched face, almost as if he was demanding to know what all the ruckus was about.

"Sorry, Scorp," Draco whispered, rocking his son gently in his arms. "Afraid, you're just going to have to get used to all the noise."

Every time he looked at Scorpius, he fell deeper in love, and if the same hadn't been true of his relationship with Hermione, the feeling probably would have unnerved him. But it was also a different kind of love than he had for Hermione, one that permeated his very being. Scorpius was both of them, and yet would grow into someone else entirely. He would have his own wants and needs, his own dreams, and one day, Hermione's power would be his own, and he'd have to decide what he wanted to do with it. Thinking about his son's future and worrying about the things he'd face only made Draco's attachment to him that much stronger, and Draco honestly had no idea how he'd lived so long without him.

But his son wasn't the end of his love story. There was the all-consuming love with Hermione that had knocked him off his feet the very moment she had come stumbling back into his life. There was the complicated love with his parents, which after years of estrangement, was finally on the mend. There was the soft and obvious love with Harry and his family, one that had showed him how happiness and pandemonium could exist on the same plane. And then there was the brotherly love with Theo, which had, from the very beginning, been founded on the desire to belong.

All of it mattered, and none of it was ordinary.

There had been a time when Draco thought he didn't deserve this, not a wife or a son, not even family that extended beyond blood, but now that he had it, now that he knew how wonderful life could be, he was never going to give any of it up.

 _My boy,_ Frode said suddenly, interrupting Draco's thoughts. _I do believe you're smitten._

Draco chuckled. _Yes_ , he replied silently as he looked around the room. _With all of it._

 _No shame in that,_ Frode assured him.

And there really wasn't. Draco couldn't remember a time when he'd been this happy, this comfortable in a home that for years held nothing but pain and around people he had once so deeply hurt. He had spent so long after the war isolating himself from the world that he had almost forgotten what it meant to love – _really_ love – and to be loved in return, but now his cup was so full that he was pretty damn sure he'd never run out.

Love, it turned, out, was the only kind of healing that he had needed all along.

When Draco finally looked up, trying to immerse himself in the conversation again, Hermione was smiling at him from the other side of the table. Her eyes were sparkling, and not just because of the ridiculously large chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. He didn't need to cross the bridge at the back of his mind to know what she was thinking; she was just as in awe with all of this as he was.

Their new, perfectly chaotic normal.

Draco shuddered as he felt a something familiar brush against his consciousness. _Scorp looks like he wants to scold everyone in the room_ , Hermione said, her voice soft and sweet in his head.

 _Can you blame him?_ Draco replied, unable to hide the smirk on his face. _We're surrounded by animals._

 _Yes,_ she said, making a face at Scorpius from across the table, _but I'm not sure we could cage them even if we tried._

 _Probably best Dromeda and Teddy are out of town then_ , Draco told her, watching with a combination of horror and amusement as Albus held up his fingers as if they were horns and charged, screaming, at his brother.

 _Oh, please_ , Hermione retorted, watching as Ginny intercepted Albus before her sons could collide. _Teddy was just as bad when he was younger. Harry is his godfather after all._

Draco chuckled quietly. She had a point.

 _I_ _can't believe my father hasn't bored you to death yet,_ he mused, hearing Lucius dive into yet another story about his bloody peacocks.

Hermione laughed rather loudly at that, earning her a brief scowl from Lucius before he continued babbling as if nothing was amuck. _His obsession with those damn birds is surprisingly endearing_ , she replied, dropping her chin to her hand as she pretended to listen. _And what can I say, I'm a sucker for putting up with the Malfoy men._

 _What she's not telling you_ , came a voice that Draco recognized as belonging to Halvor, _is that she would much rather be ravaging_ –

 _Halvor!_ Thyra admonished, obviously annoyed with his abrasive interference.

Draco lifted his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. New fucking normal indeed.

 _What?_ Halvor said, his subsequent laugh boisterous. _We all know where this night is going, just thought I'd help it along._

Draco could see the blush on Hermione's cheek, and it sent a rush of blood to a place that wasn't particularly convenient for a family dinner.

 _You both realize that your thoughts aren't particularly quiet, right?_ Runa asked, trying to hold back her own sniggers.

 _Oh, for fuck's sake_ , Thyra exclaimed, employing one of Hermione's favorite phrases. _All of you, out!_

Draco could hear the groans of the ancestors as they were forced toward the door at the back of Hermione's head. _Apologies, my dears_ , Thyra said. _We'll leave you to it._

 _Not our fault they can't control their thoughts_ , Runa grumbled as she disappeared.

 _Behave yourselves_ , Frode said cheerfully upon his exit.

 _Or don't!_ Halvor shouted, after which Thyra threw the door in Hermione's mind shut.

 _I will never get used to that_ , Draco said once their thoughts were just their one again.

 _At least you're not the one who has to train with them everyday_ , Hermione told him, pausing to acknowledge something Lucius said before adding, _but Frode is oddly attached to you. He always seems to find an excuse to cross the bridge into your head._

 _Better him than Halvor_ , Draco replied, dropping his head to watch as Scorpius fidgeted a bit in his arms. _I seriously think he gets off on making people uncomfortable._

 _He's just a little rough around the edges_ , she said a bit defensively, although he could tell that she agreed. _He means well._

Draco was about to rebut her statement with a mountain of evidence to the contrary, when the large doors to the dining room swung open, revealing a tall, lanky figure with dark hair.

"Fucking finally," Draco mumbled under his breath, and Hermione laughed.

"Everyone can relax now!" Theo shouted as he flounced into the room. "The party has arrived."

"Fashionably late as always I see," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "We're all starving, by the way. Mother wouldn't let us eat without you."

Theo snorted as he levitated a comically large bottle of wine to the center of the table. "I would hope not considering that I am the guest of honor," he said, pointing at himself and bowing dramatically.

Draco groaned but pushed back his chair and stood to embrace his friend, bringing Scorpius with him.

"Oh, look," Theo said, watching as Scorpius reached a small fist in the air as Draco pulled away. "Scorp is just itching to hang out with me. Better hand him over before he gets upset."

"You're a piece of work," Draco muttered even as he complied. "How's the new hand, by the way?" he asked, gesturing toward Theo's new addition.

"Works like a charm," Theo replied, placing a finger of said magically constructed hand, which other than a slight glimmer, looked entirely normal, inside Scorpius's tiny fist. "I was hoping they'd give me something gold and sparkly, but apparently this was the best they could do."

Draco rolled his eyes again. "Only you would complain about your new hand not being sparkly enough," he mused.

Theo merely snorted in response before returning his attention to Scorpius, talking quietly and mumbling things that sounded an awful like 'your father is an idiot' and 'good thing you have me.'

Even despite the banter, it was no small thing, seeing Theo with his son, and Draco couldn't help but smile as his best friend cooed at the small child in his arms.

"Oi!" Harry called from the other side of the room, and Draco tore his eyes away. "He was late – how come he gets to hold Scorpius first?"

"Privileges of being godfather, I'm afraid," Theo replied without looking up. "Plus, it looks like you have your hands full with little miss destroy very expensive china over there."

Draco heard Harry swear a mere moment before something shattered against the floor, and neither he nor Theo attempted to hold back their laughter.

"Merlin, give me the strength not to murder my children tonight," Ginny said, throwing her head back in frustration as she pulled Albus away from the tapestry he was hanging off of. "Narcissa, I cannot apologize–"

"No need, darling," Narcissa said as she handed Ginny a large glass of wine. "Children will be children. There's really no sense in trying to force them to be anything else."

"If you're looking for someone to blame, Harry, my money's on my father," Draco said, pointing across the table.

Both Harry and Ginny turned, surprised, and Lucius shot Draco a piercing glare before waving his wand and disposing of the pieces on the floor. "Lily has impeccable taste," he said, lifting his chin defiantly in the air. "Who am I to deny her?"

"Oh, yes because if infants love anything, it's a proper table setting," Draco quipped, catching Hermione's eyes as she tried to muffle her giggles with the palm of her hand.

Another loud crash filled the air, and Harry, who had just finished self-medicating with his own very large glass of wine, nearly choked when he turned and saw James climbing up the side of a large suit of armor, which was now missing one of the arms, in the far corner of the room.

"Oh, dear," Narcissa said softly, refilling Harry's glass as he dashed across the room, shouting at James to get down. "I don't think the Manor's seen this much destruction since Draco and Theo were young boys."

"They'll need to destroy a bit more than a pretty plate and suit of armor to compete with us," Theo said, looking over at Draco with a grin.

"You're not wrong about that," Draco agreed. "Although, I doubt our title will stand for much longer if we continue these blasted family dinners," he added, gesturing toward Albus who was now tangled in a rope that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Harry returned to the table, dragging a downtrodden looking James with him. "Don't you dare say it, Hermione," he mumbled, motioning for his son to sit down in the chair next to him as he took another large gulp from his glass.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Hermione replied, throwing her hands into the air. "But you know," she began, pausing to take a sip of wine with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, "Can't say that you didn't have this coming."

"That, my love, is the smartest thing you've said all evening," Draco said, smirking as Harry groaned and dropped his head to his hands. "Payback for all the rules you broke at Hogwarts, Potter. Fair's fair."

Even Harry laughed at that one.

As the laughter died down, Theo cleared his throat. "Not that I don't love the direction this conversation is heading," he began, looking around to make sure he had everyone's attention, "but I have a bit of an announcement." He stopped, trying to hide an obvious smile as he moved Scorpius onto his other arm. "I brought a date."

The room quieted for a moment, and six pairs of eyes fell on Theo (seven if you counted the fact that Scorpius had already been staring at his godfather and ten if you counted the fact that the Potter children only looked because all of the adults did).

"And how was it you managed to lasso a date when you've only been home from the hospital for two weeks?" Draco asked curiously, although he thought he already knew.

Instead of answering, Theo stepped to the side, revealing a figure that was still standing awkwardly near the doors.

 _Is that_ – _?_ Hermione asked Draco through their bond.

 _It is_ _indeed_ , Draco replied, smiling.

"Erm. Hello, everyone," Dean said somewhat nervously, taking a few steps forward.

The shocked silence lasted for only a moment longer before everyone at the table got up from their chairs and rushed to welcome Dean to dinner.

"I hope Theo warned you," Harry said as he stepped in between his sons, who had used the distraction as an opportunity to begin wrestling with each other in the middle of the room. "These dinners are anything but relaxing," he added, pushing the two boys away from each other as they swung their fists wildly in the air.

Dean laughed. "Oh, I've been thoroughly briefed."

After shaking Dean's hand and whispering a few light-hearted warnings of his own, Draco moved back next to Theo.

"Unbelievable," Draco muttered under his breath as he heard his mother offer Dean something to drink. "I leave the room for five minutes to finish some paperwork and you manage to seduce the Auror assigned to question you about your involvement in the whole Aescling debacle."

"What can I say," Theo replied, shrugging. "I have a thing for Aurors."

The dinner that followed was as loud and chaotic as it had been before the food had been brought out, but it didn't matter; Draco didn't stop smiling through the entire thing. He shook his head as his father regaled Hermione and Harry with stories of the Malfoy lineage while bouncing Lily in his lap. He laughed as Narcissa helped Ginny chase down the boys when they made a bee line for the dessert table that Wally had worked so hard to set up. He smirked knowingly as Theo and Dean bickered, only pausing to take a breath when Scorpius made a noise in one of their laps. Draco loved everything about it, and he watched, taking it all in as if he was afraid the scene was going evaporate into thin air.

He honestly couldn't think of anything more perfect than this.

By the time Draco and Hermione made it back to the garden home, his stomach hurt from laughing and his face was flushed from a little too much wine.

"Do you think it'll always be like this?" Hermione asked, leaning her body against his as they stood, exhausted, near the edge of their bed.

"Probably," Draco replied, hoisting Scorpius further up his shoulder. "But we'd be bored if it was any different."

He moved away so that he could place Scorpius in the bassinet and watched until he was sure their son wasn't about to erupt into an ill-timed tantrum before sitting back on the bed and pulling Hermione with him.

They landed a bit more roughly than he'd intended, and Hermione squealed in surprise before quickly relaxing into his arms. He held her tightly for a moment until he felt her wiggling slightly in his arms.

"I want to look at you," she whispered, and then she was turning, swinging a leg around him so that was straddling his lap and staring down at him with lust blown eyes.

"Better?" Draco asked, the corner of his mouth bent into his trademark smirk.

Hermione licked her lips and nodded.

It wasn't the first time they'd been in this position, far from it, but Draco still thought it was the most intoxicating fucking thing he'd ever seen.

"So beautiful," Draco murmured as brought a hand to the side of her face, his fingers brushing lightly against the warmth of her cheek.

He was tired but not tired enough to leave his wife wanting, and he kissed her, unable to resist the urge to touch her all over. The kiss was soft at first, but there was a hint of impatience to it, and Draco couldn't help but smile against her lips as he felt her fingers clawed eagerly against the back of his neck. He deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue, and within seconds, she was moaning into his mouth, begging for more.

And Draco happily complied.

"Still can't – believe – you're my – wife," he muttered as he moved his mouth down the side of her neck, searching for the spot that he knew drove her crazy. "Can't believe – " he paused over her pulse point, nearly losing it when Hermione shuddered above him. "Can't believe you made me a father," he finished breathily.

"Believe it," Hermione told him, pulling away so she could look into his stupidly perfect eyes.

"Fuck," he groaned. And he did.

– The End –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh - we made it y'all! So bittersweet that this is the end, but it was time to wrap this story up, and what better way to do it than giving you one beast of an update. Shoutout to all the dedicated reviewers who kept me writing so diligently these past few months (you know how you are), and also thank you so much to everyone who favorited/liked/shared etc. I've had so much fun writing this, and it will be sad to leave this world behind.
> 
> I'll be posting a short epilogue in the next week or so - just couldn't resist a little flash-forward - but if you're the kind of person who likes to imagine your own future for characters in a story, it's not terribly necessary that you read it.
> 
> Until next time!


	31. An End and a Beginning: An Epilogue (of sorts)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song (and you only get one for this because it's so perfect and beautiful) - Helig by John Lunn and Eivør (from the Last Kingdom Soundtrack)
> 
> * * *

_28 years (give or take a few days) later..._

Draco's head was pounding. He wasn't entirely sure whose idea it had been to invite everyone – literally everyone and all of their demonic offspring – over for the birth, but as soon as he found out who was responsible for this wretched idea, he was going to hex them into next year. It was almost unfathomable that he'd forgotten how loud this group could be, and yet, after all these years, decades really, of dinner parties, celebrations, and just for the heck of it gatherings, he still hadn't quite gotten used to all the noise.

And looking around the room, Draco realized it really was quite the spectacle.

James Potter and his husband were trying to talk to one another over the high pitched squeals of their incredibly adorable infant daughter. Albus Potter was rocking one of his twin baby girls in his arms while Narcissa held the other one in her lap as she sipped on a glass of wine, both of whom were simultaneously engaged in a deep discussion with Harry (who was most definitely still as insufferable as a semi-retired Head Auror as he'd ever been when he was full time in charge).

Edmund and Odilia Thomas Nott were bickering with one another in the corner, which was still as comical to watch as it had been when they were children, while their significant others stood awkwardly at their sides. Dean stood nearby, ignoring his two offspring as was best whenever they argued, and laughing at whatever story Lucius was telling him all while restraining James' three year-old son who appeared to be moments away from one of his infamous meltdowns – which boded well for absolutely no one (or anything) within a five yard radius.

Of course, the Weasley clan was also well represented. Nearly every single one of Ginny's brothers, spouses, and their own children and grandchildren, were congregated near one corner of the large sitting room demolishing one of the many towers of food Hermione had pulled together for them earlier in the day. Even Teddy and Victoire had made the trip, their hair standing out dramatically amongst a sea of red.

All-in-all, Draco was pretty sure that it was louder than it had ever been in the Manor, and as joyful as this day was supposed to be for him, he was going to need a fucking drink.

"Try not to look so glum, grandpa," someone said as a hand came down on his shoulder. "It's supposed to be a happy day."

Draco turned, but he really didn't need visual confirmation to know who it was. "Theo," he said. "I thought you were – how did you put it – far too busy being old and retired to come celebrate?"

Theo waved his hand in the air. "The fact that you believed a word of that…" He paused, conjuring two glasses of firewhiskey, and handed one to Draco. "You didn't think I'd actually miss the very moment I'll finally be able to call you grandpa, did you?"

"At least I'll be the least grandfather looking grandpa of the whole lot," Draco quipped, looking around with a smile at his graying friends and family.

Theo snorted. "That is, until Dean and I join the club," he said, lifting his glass in cheers.

Draco laughed, returning the small gesture and quickly brought the glass to his lips, relishing in the burn that filled his throat as he swallowed the amber liquid.

"How's Lily doing?" Theo asked sincerely.

"As far as I know, she's doing perfectly fine," Draco replied, trying to hide his annoyance with the fact that he had been banished to the same room as everyone else.

Theo, who was mid-sip when he caught the look on Draco's face, nearly choked on his drink as a chuckle erupted from deep in his chest. "I suppose we all knew she would be," he said when his airway was finally clear. "Too much of Ginny in her to be anything else."

"There is definitely no doubt about that," Draco agreed, unable to keep himself from smiling.

Lily had always been the polar opposite of Scorpius, even when they were kids, and so the fact that somewhere along the line, they had fallen in love had come as a bit of surprise to their respective families. Where Scorpius was quiet and reserved, Lily was loud and boisterous; where Lily was hotheaded, Scorpius was unyieldingly patient; and although many tried to invoke the age-old "opposites attract" explanation for their relationship, Draco had always known that it wasn't quite as simple as that. Lily gave Scorpius the confidence he had always struggled to find, and Scorpius provided Lily a sense of calm that she had never thought possible. They were two halves of a proverbial whole, and their differences weren't just differences – they made them an impressively powerful match.

"And Scorp?" Theo said, lowering his voice slightly.

The prompt didn't give anything away, but Theo, like anyone else in the know, tended to err on the side of caution when it came to discussing the thing that was so often left unsaid. Theo's own children, the gossips that they were, had never been told about the power that Hermione wielded. Even the Weasleys, who's genetic code would now be intertwined with the gift, had been kept in the dark, a decision that Lily had been quite adamant about when Ginny and Hermione first sat her down and explained everything.

Draco sighed. "It's Scorp," he said after a moment, dropping his voice as well. "How do you think he's doing?"

"I always told you that kid was going to worry himself to death," Theo remarked.

"Can't say I can blame him in this instance though," Draco replied, pausing to take another sip of his drink. "If it was me, I'm not sure I'd be handling the impending transfer any better."

"Well, at least he's only half yours," Theo said, raising both of his eyebrows. "Otherwise, I'd say the poor kid was doomed."

Draco merely grunted in response. Theo wasn't wrong but telling him so wasn't really an option either – Theo wasn't just aggravating when he was right; he was intolerable.

"Which reminds me," Theo continued, unperturbed with Draco's silence. "I hope your other half is prepared to rejoin us mere magical mortals."

Draco smiled as he felt Hermione's consciousness brush against his own at the mention of her name. She was, like she so often did when she couldn't be next to him at one of these family gatherings, eavesdropping, hoping someone would slip up and forget about the bond.

 _And I'll still be able to kick his arse in a duel regardless_ , she said quite confidently, and Draco laughed.

Theo simply shook his head, knowing Draco's laughter meant Hermione had said something less than flattering about him. "You tell her I'll be waiting outside once the power's finally gone," Theo said, pointing a long finger at his friend.

"The fuck you won't," Draco said a bit sternly. "There will be no dueling on my grandchild's birthday."

 _Of course, there is always tomorrow_ , Draco told Hermione quickly after. _Three decades of Theo moaning about how he'd be able to beat you in a fair fight. You better flatten him._

A chuckle rang out in Draco's head, the sound still as intoxicating as it has always been. _I'll try not to bruise his ego too terribly._

Draco laughed again, this time clutching his stomach as images of Hermione embarrassing Theo flashed through his mind.

But a voice calling for him suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "Dad!"

 _Oh, dear,_ Hermione noted, knowing immediately who the voice belonged to. _I'll leave you to deal with whatever today's catastrophe is..._

 _Cruel_ , Draco told her as he quickly swallowed the rest of his drink. _She's your daughter too._

 _In case you've forgotten, I'm a little busy at the moment_ , was her response as she immediately began retreating back across the bridge, clearly uninterested in whatever it was their daughter had managed to make a mess of this time.

_How convenient._

"Oh, Eldrid," Draco muttered under his breath as his daughter approached.

Theo merely chuckled beside him.

Eldrid, or El as she insisted everyone except her parents to call her, was a near spitting image of her mother, the only obvious physical difference between the two of them being the color of their hair with Eldrid's being as platinum as any other Malfoy before her. It was strange, seeing so much of her mother in her when so much of her personality was drastically different, but no matter how old, or difficult, she got, she would always be Draco's baby girl.

"Now that one is definitely yours," Theo observed, the amusement obvious in his voice as he brought his glass to his lips.

And Draco groaned quietly because he knew it was true. But she was also partly Hermione's… and a bit of everyone else who had come before her.

Eldrid was, by anyone's definition, a force to be reckoned with, a fact that had been obvious from the moment she had come barreling into this world, and although she was small in stature, it did nothing to dim her shine. She may have been sorted into Ravenclaw, but the time it had taken for the Sorting Hat to make a decision hadn't just been a record – it had blown every single sorting before her (and likely after her) out of the water. She was as cunning as any Slytherin, brave as any Gryffindor, and as loyal as any Hufflepuff, but her wit surpassed even that of her mother, and in the end, despite the sorting hat famously stating to the entire school that she would never truly belong to a single house, it was her intelligence that had won out. She was an enigma and proud of it, and yet, she never acted as if she was above anyone around her.

But she was also a complete pain in the arse, and Draco loved her so much for it.

Eldrid called for her father again but paused when she finally noticed the man standing next to him. "Oh, hi Uncle Theo," she said, her voice a few octaves lower than it had been a second ago as she finished her approach. "I didn't see you there."

"And that is precisely why you'll never be my favorite," Theo remarked, shaking a finger at her.

"Oh, fuck off," she mumbled in reply, smiling broadly now despite whatever was bothering her. "I am most definitely your favorite and always will be. You're still just bitter that dad picked Harry to be my godfather."

Draco glared at his daughter. "Eldrid," he warned. Baby girl or not, he didn't particularly enjoy the way she spoke to people sometimes.

"What?" she asked, feigning confusion. She knew he didn't have a leg to stand on, not with Hermione as her mother, and so she just smiled innocently, waiting for Draco to give up his meager attempt to chastise her for her choice of words.

Theo laughed, watching the standoff with amusement. "I'll give you two a moment," he said, winking at Draco before walking away.

"Eldrid," Draco said again when they were finally alone, shaking his head slightly as the words left his mouth. "How many times do I–"

"Oh stop, dad," she said. "It's just Theo."

Draco merely looked at her, his eyes a dark steel.

"Alright, fine," she said, throwing her head back in frustration. "I'll watch my language around the guests. Happy?"

Draco rolled his eyes but conceded that was the best he was going to get from her.

"Can we talk?" Eldrid asked quietly, looking nervously around them. "Alone?" she emphasized.

"What's going on?" Draco asked, quickly leading his daughter into the empty hallway outside of the room everyone else was cheerfully settled in.

Eldrid frowned. "It's Scorpius," she said, chewing at the inside of her cheek. "I may have–" She stopped, clearly trying to keep herself from saying something incriminating.

Draco sighed heavily, immediately understanding. "What did you do this time?"

"I didn't do anything!" she told him, throwing her hands on her hips in a way that was eerily similar to something her mother would do. "I promise!" she added when her father wouldn't stop glaring at her.

"Then why do you look so guilty?" Draco asked, tilting his head in an accusatory way.

Eldrid was silent for a moment, once again nibbling at the inside of her cheek as she shifted awkwardly on her feet. "He's not doing so well," she told him finally.

Draco studied her, trying to decide if he should push for more details, but quickly decided he could only put out one fire at a time, and this time, Scorpius just happened to be a bit more of a priority. He would deal with whatever Eldrid had done or said another time.

 _Or not_ , he thought, almost laughing out loud at how ridiculous it was that he was still intervening in his children's squabbles. _She's twenty-five years old and completely capable of solving things on her own._

"Alright," he said, his eyes still locked on hers. "Where is he?"

"Up in the hallway outside Lily's room," Eldrid told him, looking somewhat relieved that she hadn't been interrogated further. "He looked like he was about to pass out."

Draco nodded and placed his empty glass on the small table next to him.

"You know," he began, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder before he walked away. "Just because you're not scared of the power now doesn't mean you won't be when you're faced with the inevitability of it."

Eldrid rolled her yes. "I know, dad," she said, her voice betraying how bored she was with his statement. "I really didn't mean to make him upset this time. He's just…"

"He's a worrier," Draco supplied, but it really wasn't quite that simple, and they both knew it. "Go on," he said, gesturing toward the door. "There are people in there who'd like to see you."

"There are always people who want to see me," she mumbled, but after another stern look from her father, she turned and walked back inside the room.

Draco smiled softly as he watched Eldrid disappear before turning and heading up the stairs. He took them one at a time, moving slowly and hoping that whatever had transpired between Eldrid and Scorpius hadn't been as big as their last argument. It had taken nearly a month for them to speak to each other again, and Draco wasn't sure Hermione could handle another incident like that, especially not now with everything that was about to happen.

 _Wasn't retirement supposed to be easy?_ he groaned inwardly as he ascended the last few steps in front of him.

He turned the corner into the hallway that led to Lily's room, and stopped when he caught sight of Scorpius, pacing back and forth in front a closed door, he couldn't help but shake is head.

"Scorpius," Draco called. "You know you don't actually have to wait out here, right?"

Scorpius turned, breathing a sigh of relief when he caught sight of his father. "I told Lily I was just stepping out for some air," he replied with an obvious tremble in his voice. "Mother and Ginny are in there with her now. They said it could be awhile."

"And you call this air?" Draco asked, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.

While typically as immaculately put together as any of the Malfoys, Scorpius looked, for lack of a better word, a hot mess. His face was ashen, his platinum hair was slightly tangled and matted, and his clothes… well they looked like they hadn't been changed in days. There were dark circles under his eyes, which in combination with the paleness of his skin made him look rather sickly, and his lips were dry and cracked, no doubt from incessant lip biting – a nervous habit he had unquestionably inherited from his mother.

He was stressed, that much would have been obvious to any of the dozens of people (animals, all of them) who were waiting downstairs happened to wander into the hallway, but Draco knew better. Scorpius' stress wasn't born from the knowledge that any minute he would officially become a father, not even a little bit; he had been talking about this moment since he had first realized his feelings for Lily were anything but platonic. His stress, the real reason he looked like he was about to fall apart, was forged in something else entirely.

Fear. Specifically, fear of the power that he would soon be inheriting from his mother.

"Come on," Draco said, placing a hand on Scorpius' shoulder. "Let's go for a walk."

"But–"

"Bond, remember?" Draco interrupted, already turning to head back down the stairs. "Your mother will warn me when it's time. We won't go far."

Scorpius hesitated, glancing back toward the closed door behind him as if he expected it to fly open at any moment, before quickly following.

 _Hermione_ , Draco called through the bond as he moved back down the stairs. _I'm taking Scorp outside._

 _Is he alright?_ Hermione replied, clearly worried as was her tendency when it came to their two children, even despite the calm that Draco was trying to project across the bridge.

 _He looks a bit green around the gills_ , Draco told her, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Scorpius was still following. _Nothing a walk around the lake can't help, h_ e added, satisfied that his son wasn't going to change his mind and run back up the stairs.

 _Perhaps I should join you_ , Hermione said, her worry still not quelled. _If he's nervous about the transfer…_

 _Let me try talking to him first_ , he insisted as he turned the corner.

 _Are you sure?_ He _told me he was alright when I spoke to him earlier this morning, but I'm sure this is all a bit overwhelming._

_I think he just needs a bit of support for someone who isn't quite so… involved._

Hermione chuckled. _Can't say I blame him_ , she said. _Halvor has been absolutely unbearable the past couple of weeks – he's far too excited about finally being able to train one of our offspring._

 _I won't be sorry to have him out of our heads for a while_ , Draco replied, excited even now at the prospect of the ancestors focusing on someone who wasn't Hermione for the first time in three decades. _Scorp will be fine. Just let me talk to him down from whatever ledge he's found himself on now._

_Let me know if you change your mind – Ginny can handle things without me if needed._

Draco muttered a quick 'will do' and 'I love you' before refocusing his attention on where he was walking, careful to keep a wide berth around the room holding the myriad of visitors. He navigated to the back of Manor and paused at back door that led directly into one of Narcissa's favorite gardens.

"Lake?" he prompted quietly, turning his head.

Scorpius simply nodded.

Draco pulled open the door, and ushered Scorpius outside, letting his son lead the way. They wandered quietly down a familiar meandering path, not bothering to pause at any of the small garden plots along the way. It was chilly, but it wasn't far to the lake, and so Draco didn't bother casting a warming charm over the two of them, instead choosing the revel in the cold that filled his lungs. When they came to to the end of the path, Scorpius paused, taking a deep breath as his eyes scanned the horizon in front of him, and Draco moved next to him, careful to give his son the space, both physically and mentally, that he needed before he spoke again

"I'm not ready," Scorpius said finally, taking a few extra steps off the path so that he could move closer to the water.

Draco sighed. "I know," he said, his eyes scanning the dark water in front of him. "But it's time."

"I wish it wasn't," Scorpius admitted. "El is much better suited for this," he asserted, waving a hand in the air as if to gesture to everything that was going on.

Draco sighed. "Your sister isn't the one who's about to become a parent," he told him. "And you know she only talks about how excited she is to inherit power because she knows it gets under your skin, right?"

"It would be nice, even just this once, if I could borrow a little bit of her confidence," Scorpius admitted, sadly. "She's always so sure that everything is going to be okay. I can't…" but he let his words trail off.

"You really think she'll be able to hold it together when her time comes?" Draco said when it became clear that his son wasn't going to continue.

Scorpius shrugged, unable to look back at his father.

"She won't," Draco continued, watching as his son stared absentmindedly across the lake. "And I would know – she's much too like me. Underneath her facade, she's just as scared and worried as you are now. Don't let that deceive you."

"Maybe," Scorpius muttered quietly, dropping this gaze to the immaculately groomed grass at his feet.

"Definitely," Draco asserted, trying not to laugh. When it was all said and done, Eldrid would be more terrified about the transfer than Scorpius ever was.

Scorpius turned back toward the water, and Draco followed suit, listening to the soothing sounds of water lapping at the shore.

"What does it feel like?" Scorpius asked suddenly, his voice almost a whisper.

"I'm sure your mother has–"

"She's explained what the transfer feels like, yes," Scorpius interrupted before Draco could finish his thought. "And she's tried to explain what it's like to cast with the power, but I think it's hard for her to remember what it's like to live without it. She seems so comfortable with it – like it's as much a part of her as her own DNA."

"She is, and it is, just as it will be for you," Draco said. "Your mother didn't have years to prepare for this moment, like you've had," he reminded his son. "Waking up with it after nearly dying giving birth to you–" Draco paused, shivering even now at the memory. "It was difficult for her to wield something that was so strange and foreign, but it also saved her life – both of your lives actually – and she grew accustomed to the feeling over time. So will you."

"But will I still feel the same?"

"Ahh," Draco muttered in understanding. So that's what he was really worried about. "I'm not entirely sure I'm the right person to answer that question." He stopped turning to face his son. "I'm not the rightful heir–"

"But you've wielded the power through the bond," Scorpius asserted, cutting him off again. "Mother loaned it to you. And I know you used it in the field anytime you were faced with a particularly difficult assignment – Harry told Lily about the incident with the dragons."

"Bloody chosen one," Draco mumbled under his breath. Leave it to Harry to declassify highly classified information so he could tell his kids a bedtime story. "Yes, your mother loaned me the power from time to time," he admitted after a moment. "But never for more than a few days and only when we had no other choice."

"So you know what it feels like to use it," Scorpius said, his eyes searching his father's face for some sort of understanding.

"Yes," Draco began, running a hand through his hair, "I know how it feels." He paused, looking back out over the lake before speaking again. "Wielding the power is invigorating, but for me there was always a hint of strangeness that came with it," he explained finally, his fingers tingling as he allowed the memories to flood the front of his brain. "Everything is amplified – your senses especially, and magic just seems to come more naturally. But it was never mine to keep, and so the fit was never quite right."

"Does it–" Scorpius stopped, and Draco could see he was struggling to articulate something. "Do you still crave it?"

"The power is alluring but it isn't corrupting," Draco said, guessing, and correctly it seemed, what his son was trying to ask.

"But the man who tried to kill mother, to kill all of us – didn't it corrupt him? Couldn't you say having the power made him into the monster that he was?"

Draco shook his head. "It wasn't the power that corrupted him," he said. "It was the idea, his obsession with hanging on to something that wasn't his to keep."

"What if the same thing happens to me? What if I become so addicted to the power that I don't want to give it up?"

"You won't," Draco assured him.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because you're your mother's son," Draco told him. "Because you're worried about it at all. Because being a father is more important to you than inheriting some ancient power."

"Lily said the same thing," Scorpius said quietly after a moment.

Draco smiled. If there had been any doubt that Lily was the right person for his son, this would have been the moment that the doubt left him. "You should listen to your wife," he said. "She's clearly smarter than you."

Scorpius lifted his head, and Draco could see that he was grinning broadly.

And Draco was about to make another joke, happy that his son was finally feeling anything other than melancholy, when he felt his wife's consciousness crash against his own.

 _Draco, it's time_ , Hermione said hurriedly, followed by a series of images that Draco could only assume meant this baby was coming – and fast. _Best to Apparate if you can._

 _On our way_ , Draco replied quickly.

"Time to go," Draco said out loud, grabbing a hold of his son's hand and Apparating them quickly back inside before Scorpius had a chance to reply.

They landed in the same hallway that Draco had found Scorpius pacing in, and even from outside, the commotion from behind the door was audible, startling both men.

"Lily needs you," Draco said when he caught the now terrified look on his son's face. "Try to focus on her... if you can."

Scorpius nodded and moved toward the door, but he hesitated for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. "See you on the other side," he said quietly, turning back to acknowledge his father one last time.

"See you on the other side," Draco repeated as he watched his son disappear into the room.

* * *

First there was a small cry, and then there was a light so blinding that it knocked him off his feet.

But the light wasn't quite as disorienting as what came next.

A shock ran through his body, rendering him unable to breathe, and time slowed exponentially, each second passing slower than an eternity. The sensation wasn't exactly painful, but it wasn't comfortable either, and even though he couldn't be sure it was real, he could feel the cool track of a tear moving down the side of his face as the seemingly endless waves of a strange power passed through him.

He had been told what this would feel like, warned that he would likely be afraid, but actually experiencing it was something else entirely. He felt like he was swimming in a debilitating current of electricity, as if he had been tossed headfirst into a torrent so strong that he'd never be able to get out, and he was worried if it continued much longer that he would drown. But he wasn't drowning.

He couldn't.

Slowly, or perhaps it was more quickly than he thought, the surprise wore off, and he began to settle into himself, into the power that was now coursing through his veins. The terror disappeared next, the void filled with comforting images of things of things that had come to pass. There were memories he had been shown before, and there were some he hadn't yet seen, but what made him gasp, what shocked him harder than the power itself, was the image of his mother, a much younger version of herself, laying still and bloodied in a room he didn't recognize.

He knew the story. He knew what happened next, and yet, being there, being able to witness the moment she nearly died… it was…

But suddenly the image changed. His mother's eyes opened, and for the first time in a long time, a powerful calm settled over him.

And suddenly, it was over. He felt... well, he felt different, but surprisingly fine and ready.

Scorpius opened his eyes, groaning as he tried to reorient himself, and he realized that someone was standing over him. His mother.

"Scorpius," Hermione said softly, smiling.

"Is it–?" he began but stopped, swallowing heavily. He already knew the answer to the question he was going to ask. He could feel it in his bones.

"Yes," she told him simply. And then she reached out her hand to help him off the floor. "It's yours now." She paused as another cry echoed off the walls. "And you have a daughter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **a/n** : At last! It took me much longer than I thought it would to decide which of the many scenes I had in my head to put here, but this one (even though it's a huge flash-forward and mostly from Draco's point-of-view) just felt the most right. I hope everyone enjoyed it!
> 
> As promised, a short excerpt from my Good Omens inspired multi-chapter AU is below. I'm not entirely sure when I'm going to start posting this one nor do I have any idea how long it will be, but I can (probably) safely promise you that I will have the first chapter posted by the end of Jan 2021, if not sometime before. There might also be a short holiday one-shot or two before then as well.
> 
> Anyways, thank you to everyone who stuck with this epic story until its bitter end. I love you all!
> 
> And lastly – Eldrid is a name I've been obsessed with for years, so I really couldn't resist using it here. It's Old Norse for 'fiery spirit.'
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Party Till I Die** \- an excerpt (which reads much more serious than the story will actually be)
> 
> "We can't keep meeting like this," she said as she climbed out of bed, the pearly white sheen of her tattooed wings glistening in the morning sun.
> 
> "We always meet like this," he replied, leaning back against the pillow, his arms folded behind his head. "That much will never change."
> 
> "They'll find out eventually," came her reply, her voice just as angelic and pure as the rest of her.
> 
> He almost laughed but thought better of it. No one was watching them. No one really cared what they did in their free time. The space in between their worlds would always just be a playground of sorts for their respective sides, a test-ground for what was to come.
> 
> "And would it really matter if they did?" he asked seriously, pushing himself upright so that he could sneak behind her.
> 
> "Perhaps not for you," she replied, moaning softly as he arms wrapped around her. "But it would be a much longer fall for me."
> 
> She wasn't wrong.
> 
> "Ahh, but the creatures of the dark get to have all the fun," he told her, pausing to kiss her neck. "Black would suit you," he added, running his fingers over her back.
> 
> Despite having done this with her at least a thousand times, and once a few minutes ago, the black wings tattooed on his own back still shivered in anticipation. Being with her, even if just for an hour, was the only thing that got him through his annoyingly mundane existence.
> 
> "Well, do you want me to stop?" he asked when she remained quiet, his lips hovering near her pulse point.
> 
> She turned to face him, the gold in her eyes threatening to consume him.
> 
> "Never."


End file.
